


Stormseeker: Nexus of Shadows

by Serriya (Keolah)



Series: Codex Veritatum [5]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic, Werewolf: The Apocalypse
Genre: Dimension Travel, Immortality, M/M, POV First Person, Present Tense, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-11-11 11:48:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 103,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11147787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Serriya
Summary: Somewhere deep in the Umbra, the shadow plane where spirits dwell, lies a magical device called a Nexus, that can be used to allow access to other universes. But also seeking this prize, a corrupted, insane werewolf could threaten the multiverse if he's not stopped.





	1. Gifts

"Ho, Millennium Falcon," I say, coming into the rec room. "I got a present for you that I made." I set it on the table.

"What is it?" Falcon says, examining the ornate, glowing cube.

"This, is a Jedi holocron," I say. "I promised you schematics, didn't I? It also contains a bunch of stories, too. Here, try it out, just touch it, right here."

Falcon presses his fingers where I indicate, and a holographic projection of my face appears above the cube.

"I am Stormseeker Interactive Holocron 1," the image says. "Enter your query."

"Access schematics," I tell myself. "Display, T3-M4."

"Voice imprint recognized," my projection says. "Welcome, Stormseeker. Searching. Data found. Displaying."

The image changes to a detailed representation of a utility droid design.

Falcon raises an eyebrow. "Nice. Holocron, list schematic files."

"Voice imprint unrecognized," the holocron says, switching back to the head image. "New user. Input username and passcode."

"Username, Millennium Falcon," he says, then looks to me.

"Passcode: There is no temptation, there is only choice," I say.

"Acknowledged," the holocron says. "Accessing data."

A list of file names appears above the cube. I put in everything I could think of into the data cube. Lightsabers, blasters, droids, even spaceships. I don't have the time or resources to construct most of this stuff, never mind that most of it isn't useful to me right now, but the Glass Walkers are another story.

"Display schematic, Ebon Hawk," Falcon says.

The image of my face is replaced by that of my ship, my former ship maybe I should say, left behind on a planet a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

"Zoom in on drive section," Falcon says.

The section of the ship enlarges, showing labeled components of the hyperdrive. Falcon looks at it intently, gauging it.

"This is real?" Falcon says. "This technology actually works?"

"Absolutely," I say, patting my lightsaber hanging from my belt.

"Huh," Falcon says. "I guess you really are from the future."

I chuckle. "Did you doubt me?"

"It's one thing abstractly accepting time travel weirdness," Falcon says. "It's another thing entirely seeing something like, this." He waves a hand at the display.

"Lucky for you, I was quite the engineer in the future," I say with a grin. "I had to reconstruct these schematics from memory, and my memory has been a chancy thing at times. I might have had to fill in some gaps off of new design because I couldn't remember exactly what was used, and replaced a few components with ones that should work with currently available resources."

Meditation exercises and being able to look things over in a Pensieve certainly didn't hurt, either.

"Was this your ship?" Falcon asks.

I nod. "Knew her like the back of my hand. Well. Not my ship, my ship. I didn't build it. Just kind of, stole it from some crime boss. Accidentally smuggled some drugs with it too, since it apparently came with a secret cargo space I didn't know about." I snicker. "Went over it with a fine-toothed comb after that, though, once I had a chance and people weren't trying to kill me. Was quite the adventure there for a while."

"Sounds like it," Falcon says.

"So, hey, presents aside, this wasn't the only reason I came over here," I say, reaching over to deactivate the holocron. "Your organization. Tribe. How does one join?"

"So you want to be a Glass Walker," Falcon says, chuckling. "I have to admit, I've never run across a case quite like yours before. I'm convinced that you must have been a Glass Walker at some point, and if not, you should have been. You're not a cub anymore, and yet you are. You haven't completely made your First Change yet, and yet you have. And your pack is the most eclectic mix I have ever seen happily working together that I'm almost surprised you don't have a token vampire in there for good measure. A Garou, an elf, a wraith, an Animagus, some wizards, and you. Whatever you really are."

"That's my life for you," I say. "Nothing if not complicated."

Falcon snickers. "So I see. Normally, I'd send a cub off on a Rite of Passage to earn their place in the tribe and Garou society. I'd give them some minor problem to solve, a basic test of some sort, something well within their capabilities. You're well past all of that and it would be nothing more than a formality. I watched you program a storm, hunt down fomori, rescue innocents, face down Black Spiral Dancers, and destroy an artifact to prevent it from falling into the clutches of the Wyrm."

"I'm not taking any glory for any of that shit," I say. "It was my own mistake that it happened at all."

"Too late," Falcon says with a smirk. "You weren't the one who called in the Black Spiral Dancers there. And you didn't have to stand your ground and stop them, either. But you did. And you've gotten recognition for that whether you want it or not."

I grunt. "Fine. So what about this Rite of Passage?"

"I can't send you on a Rite of Passage," Falcon says. "Not with all this time travel weirdness, as you call it. I can't determine whether you were or weren't a member of the tribe in some alternate timeline, and regardless, it's not up for me to decide. I can, however, suggest you seek recognition from the tribe's totem."

"The totem?" I ask.

"The patron spirit of the Glass Walkers," Falcon says. "Cockroach."

"Cockroach?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow. "Alright, how?"

"Do you know how to step sideways?" Falcon asks. "Or remember? Whichever."

"Step sideways?" I wonder. "Maybe I should ask for a lexicon of terminology next..."

Falcon chuckles. "By which I mean, to enter the Umbra."

"Oh," I say. "Hmm." I think back. "I might." I work up my face. "This might sound strange. I vaguely remember at one point that I made a deal with a spirit, Mouse, to teach me about the Umbra."

"Not strange at all," Falcon says. "That's how shapeshifters learn many of their Gifts. So what did Mouse teach you?"

"Among other things?" I say, then grin. "How to slip through the little holes in the world to get into and out of places..."

I pick apart the memories running through my head. I know I must have known how to Apparate at one point, but this isn't quite the same thing. Is it really all that different, though, when you get down to the basics of it? Apparation is going from one place to another place, but what if that other place is right on top of you, effectively?

Fragments of memory slip through my fingers. I can't quite piece it together. I need to find Mouse again. But just because I can't remember it entirely doesn't mean I can't still figure it out. The Veil is so thin here one might slip across with just a thought...

The world doesn't really so much shift as that the air feels different, prickling the hair on my arms. Nothing else seems different, so for a moment I don't think I actually did anything, until I see Falcon grinning at me.

"It's something every shapeshifter can do," Falcon says. "Most breeds wouldn't even need it to be taught to them by a spirit. As shapeshifters, we always already have one foot on each side."

"Or two paws?" I add wryly.

Falcon chuckles. "So to speak." He tilts his head at the hallway. "You'll have to make this trip yourself."

I look over to the hallway, but now that I look at it more closely, it doesn't really seem like the hallway that was on the other side of the Veil. As I turn to walk, out of the corners of my eyes, wisps of lines appear, like circuits, like wires. The further I go down the hallway, the further away from the real world it seems I get.

My surroundings fade a metallic hallway covered in green lines zigzagging about at right angles. Small metallic spiders skitter about, frenetically working on one inscrutable task or another. Doorways and intersections lead off at different points, and I think I could quickly become lost in a digital labyrinth like this.

I know what I'm looking for, though. And if there's one thing I know, it's computers. The systems I'd seen on this planet are primitive compared to what I'm used to, not surprising from a society that has yet to develop interstellar travel. What I gave to Falcon alone should be enough to catapult the Glass Walkers into the next millennium.

So I follow the lines, just like I'm slicing into a computer. I might as well be. It certainly feels like it. I've never felt like I could be so literally inside a computer system before. And it is _awesome_. Programs unfold around me like blossoming flowers built of sparkling digits. Processes flow like rivers of light. Metallic spider-like creatures of all shapes and sizes scurry around. One such weaverling the size of a Muggle automobile stops and takes a long look at me through large, glowing eyes before moving on.

I'm in the spirit world. I'm surrounded by spirits. These aren't real machines or real creatures, but spirits of order. And for the most part, they don't actually care about me. They're busy.

It would be hard to imagine that many shapeshifters who aren't Glass Walkers would come to this part of the Ethereal Plane. They wouldn't even be able to interpret what they're seeing. Not that that's saying much. I'd probably be just as lost in some mystical forest that they'd feel right at home in.

A black door opens into a room, a node, humming with energy, buzzing with activity, lit up like a Yule tree. This is _my_ mystical forest. This is where _I_ feel at home.

" _So you are here_."

A voice, calm, soft, almost feminine, from no discernible location. It takes me a moment to register that the words weren't spoken in English, but in _elven_. _Akaya hey,_ a traditional greeting I haven't heard since Torn Elkandu. Is there someone else from Torn Elkandu here, or is that merely my perception?

I clear my throat. "Greetings."

Weaverlings scurry around me, some of them moving out of the way or adjusting their paths and making slightly annoyed clicks and whistles at being inconvenienced by my presence. They almost sound like utility droids. One of them comes up to me, carrying a box twice its size, and bloops indignantly at my feet.

"Ah, I'm in your way, sorry," I say, stepping aside.

The little weaverling makes two short bloops in thanks or acknowledgment and goes on.

" _Stormseeker_ ," intones the voice. " _Timewalker. Fateweaver. Doombreaker_."

Fuck, like I need any _more_ pretentious titles? I thought I was full up on them.

"You know who I am," I say.

" _Yes_."

"Who are you?" I ask.

I have the distinct feeling of being watched. A rather silly thing to be feeling considering that there are weaverlings all around me who are, for the most part, cheerfully ignoring me rather than watching me. But I can't tell where the voice is coming from.

" _I am the one who thrives where others cannot survive_ _._ _The one who is never noticed but is everywhere_."

"Cockroach?" I say. "It's not much of a riddle if I knew the answer beforehand."

A sound like faint laughter falls through the air, and one small luminous insect emerges from a wall. "Yes, challenge-response authentication only works if each party knows what they're expecting already."

"Complicated passcodes can be easy to forget," I say.

"I recommend using a dedicated weaverling as a password manager," Cockroach suggests.

"Wouldn't that also have security issues?" I ask. "Couldn't it be subverted?"

"If it were connected directly to you, it would be very difficult to do so," Cockroach replies.

"I'll take that into consideration," I say. "However, would it be capable of traveling across time and space readily? It's simple when time only goes in one direction, and not backwards or sideways. Sideways is the most confusing sort."

Cockroach titters in amusement. "If set up properly, perhaps. You just step sideways a little further than most shapeshifters."

I pause. "You know who I am," I say again. "You greeted me in the local elven dialect from where I grew up."

"Are you surprised? What were you expecting?"

"I'm not really sure," I admit. "I try not to, generally. Expectations can lead to trouble."

"But you expect nonetheless," Cockroach says.

"I suppose that's inevitable, " I say.

"Were you expecting the worst?" Cockroach asks. "Did you prepare for it?"

"Not really," I say. "I mean, I'm kind of hard to kill and I've got so many backups and contingencies that I'm sure I could have recovered even if I couldn't have possibly predicted what might happen."

Cockroach clicks in appreciation. "Yes. Exactly. I like you. You can't trust what you expect. You can't expect everything. You can't rely on deep planning or trying to outsmart yourself. You just have to be prepared to survive no matter what happens."

"I guess that kind of makes me a time-traveling cockroach, so to speak," I say with a smirk.

"Quite so," Cockroach replies. "Now, you sought me out deliberately. What would you ask of me?"

"I was looking to join the Glass Walkers," I say. "Millennium Falcon mentioned something about a Rite of Passage, but–"

"Rites of Passage are for cubs who haven't proven themselves yet," Cockroach interrupts. "You're no cub, and you've nothing to prove. If you want, you're in. Is that really all you sought? My blessing in that? Not to learn any Gifts or bargain for knowledge?"

I bite my lower lip. "You would teach me?"

"Of course," Cockroach says. "And since you're now a brand new Glass Walker – possibly not for the first time, but let’s not dwell on that – you even get a freebie.”

“I’m never one to argue with knowledge,” I say. “Especially if there’s no cost attached. What can you teach me?”

“Hmm. Let me teach you how to interact with the spirits of machines. They can help you to find out what’s wrong and assist in repairs.”

“That sounds _really_ useful,” I say.

“I thought you might say that.” Cockroach ticks cheerfully.

I pause. That was the thinking of the Force user on the spaceship. “But what if I wind up somewhere more primitive again?”

“The spirits of a cannon or a water wheel are just as valid as those of an engine or computer. And I expect that wherever you wind up, you will adapt and survive.”

“Alright. True. Thank you.” I pause again. “I _am_ a shapeshifter, aren’t I?”

Cockroach scoffs. “Of course you are. Not a sort that normally joins my Tribe, but definitely a shapeshifter either way.”

“What sort is that?” I ask.

“Give you a hint,” Cockroach says in some amusement. “It has wings.”

“A duck?” I guess.

Cockroach outright laughs at that. “Fine, fine, I won’t beat around the bush. You’re a dragon.”

“A dragon,” I repeat.

“I think you already knew that, though.”

“Heir of the Children of the Dragon’s Blood,” I say. “Yeah, when you put it like that, it was pretty obvious.”

“Haven’t seen many of your kind still around, and none of them out in my little corner of the Umbra,” Cockroach says. “They’re dying out because they can’t adapt. Most of them can’t even change form anymore. I haven’t seen a dragon shifter in an age. You’re lucky to have been born homid. Quick lifespans and endless adaptability.”

“Like cockroaches,” I say wryly.

Cockroach shows me how to detect and contact the spirits of objects, a simple task once it has been pointed out, or really more of a Gift I suppose. I make my way out of the Umbra and return to Millennium Falcon, still somewhat awestruck by what I’ve seen and learned.

He looks up at me expectantly, but breaks out into a grin when he sees the look on my face. “I take it it went well?”

“She says I’m in,” I say. “Also, she taught me a Gift.”

“She?” Falcon says.

“I didn’t take a close look and I wouldn’t be able to tell the sex of a cockroach anyway, and I don’t think it even _matters_ all that much for spirits, but it _sounded_ feminine.”

Falcon chuckles. “Well, either way, congratulations. The recognition of the spirits matters. Will you still be staying with Buried Cable Sept, or did you plan to move to London?”

“I’ll still be at Cardiff for a while yet,” I say. “I have some unfinished business to take care of. Then, I’ve got some business in the States. I’m not sure how long that will be. Knowing me, both far too long and not long enough. That’s about the way things go sometimes.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you for wanting to get out of the country for a while,” Falcon says. “I can get you in touch with the local Tribe wherever you wind up. If you’re hunting Jez’kai, they may be able to help in some way.”

I give a nod. “Thanks.”

  


* * *

The wards of Caer Danas alert me to cursebreakers trying to make their way in. Expectations aside, I didn’t expect to be able to make it to Beltane without interruption. I cast aside the book I was reading without a second thought, and cast a quick spell to amplify my voice.

“Everyone up!” I call out, leaping to my feet. “Take position. We are under attack.”

Remus and Gellert leap up from the couch.

“Who is it?” Sirius wonders, pulling out his wand along with the others.

I snort softly. “You mean which of the several groups that we’ve pissed off has bothered to show up at our doorstep even though we haven’t really been keeping quiet about still being here?”

Remus peers out the front window. “Aurors, from the look of it.”

“More likely to be able to be reasoned with than Black Spiral Dancers, at least,” I say.

“Even considering their corruption and demon summoning?” Sirius asks.

“They couldn’t _all_ have been complicit to that,” I say.

“Guess not,” Sirius admits. “Is it wise to let them know we’re actually here, though?”

“We’re going to fight,” I say. “This is our house. I won’t let them take it.”

“Right then,” Sirius says. “Standing our ground it is.”

“And if met with overwhelming force, we shall go back in time and then evacuate,” I say lightly.

“I’m still getting used to the idea of this whole ‘immortality’ thing,” Sirius says wryly. “Are you always so flippant about it?”

“Now that I know you all will be safe and not dying horrible deaths?” I say. “Yes.”

“That’s reassuring,” Sirius says.

“ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” I cast. The dragon spirit emerges from my wand, and I nod to her. “Please tell the people sieging my castle, I don’t want to have to kill them. I will parley, but _not_ surrender. They may back off and send _one_ representative to the gate. I will come out and meet them.”

The dragon Patronus nods and flies out across the grounds.

“Be on alert,” I turn to tell the others. “I’m going to speak with them. Cover me.”

I head outside. The wards let me know that the attempts at breaking them have paused for the time being. A dark-skinned man has approached the gate, wearing robes that remind me more of a Jedi than a wizard who might have gone to Hogwarts. He holds a wand at his side, ready but not pointing directly at me.

“Darth Revan?” the Auror asks.

I nod to him. “That’s me. And you?”

“Kingsley Shacklebolt. I’m here to place you under arrest–”

I hold up a hand and interrupt him. “Are you aware that Moody is possessed?”

Kingsley pauses. “That’s a serious accusation. Do you have evidence?”

I reach out with my senses to try to get an assessment of the man in front of me. A feel of the Force around him, his _smell_ in a manner of speaking. But I sense nothing of the Dark Side in him. He may be misinformed or misguided, but he’s not corrupted. Not in that sense of the term.

“There were others who encountered him and can corroborate that,” I say. “They’re werewolves, though, so I’m not sure how much store you’d put in their words.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Kingsley says. “Do you claim that _he_ is the one who destroyed the Ministry of Magic, and not you?”

I shake my head. “No. That was me. It was an accident, but it was me.”

“An accident,” Kingsley repeats, then sighs. “An accident that conveniently occurred immediately following your threats?”

“I didn’t say I intended nothing,” I say with a smirk. “Just that what actually happened was unintentional. I didn’t mean for a huge magical storm to destroy central London.”

“Regardless of the scale of what you intended, you need to pay for your crimes,” Kingsley says.

“What do you want of me?” I ask.

“I want you to come along quietly,” Kingsley says. “My team will stand down and we won’t damage the house or harm anyone else inside of it. We can hold a makeshift trial with what’s left of the Ministry, but you don’t deny your actions. You need to go to Azkaban for this.”

“No,” I say flatly. “And do you really think Azkaban would hold me, after I broke everyone out of there?”

Kingsley pauses. “We may need to rethink our criminal justice system.”

“You don’t say.”

“Regardless, you need to answer for your crimes,” Kingsley says. “You cannot simply do whatever you want without repercussions.”

“Yeah,” I say. “It would be so easy to avoid repercussions, you know. To avoid consequences. A snap of my fingers, and I’m in another country, another world, another time, another universe, and no one there will know what happened here. And you’d be standing there looking at an empty house without anyone that could make amends for his mistakes.”

“Do you intend to try to escape?” Kingsley demands.

I shake my head. “Not at this moment. You know, prison is really counterproductive. The only purpose it serves is in preventing the prisoners from harming anyone else so long as they’re inside. It doesn’t actually fix anything that they might have done, nor does it change them to be better people who wouldn’t have committed those crimes. It probably is more likely to make them worse people than better, especially that prison of yours staffed by soul-sucking monsters of doom.”

“I don’t like them, but I know they _are_ effective at keeping the worst of the worst out of the general populace,” Kingsley says.

“It’s good that you think so,” I say a little wearily. “I’d really rather not have to kill you. I have the blood of too many innocents on my hands already.”

“You think you could win?” Kingsley says. “I’ve got the best Aurors still alive backing me up here, minus Moody.”

“Is there some compromise we could make?” I ask. “Is there something you’d ask of me that _doesn’t_ involve being locked up anywhere, with or without the soul-sucking monsters of doom?”

“You can’t just submit a plea bargain and ask for community service in exchange for _mass murder_ ,” Kingsley says.

“Did you see the Black Spiral Dancers attack the place?” I ask.

“Yeah, I can’t believe you’re working with that scum, either,” Kingsley says.

“Working with?” I say in startlement. “Absolutely not. I was _fighting_ them. I _stopped_ them. You didn’t really think _I_ brought them in, did you?”

Kingsley frowns. “You _oppose_ the Black Spiral Dancers? But you broke out all the former Death Eaters from prison.”

“You know, there’s more than one group of assholes running around,” I say. “It would be so much simpler if ‘evil’ were some monolithic entity and not a bunch of squabbling factions of varying degrees and flavors of evilness. For what it’s worth, I was hoping that any of those former Death Eaters who were too dumb to live would get themselves eaten by werewolves.”

“So you admit that you’re evil, too?” Kingsley says.

“I’m really not going to squabble over definitions of morality,” I say. “I’m sure you find some of my views to be reprehensible, just as I find some of yours to be. It doesn’t matter. What matters is what actually happened, and what each of us is going to do from here on out.”

“I take it you still won’t come quietly,” Kingsley observes.

“Not a chance,” I say with a ghost of a grin. “It seems we’ve reached an impasse. Will it be war, then? Or shall we settle this in a duel, and not make a mess of things and drag others into it where permanent damage could be dealt on either side.”

“You would abide by the results of such a duel?” Kingsley asks.

“Of course,” I say. “I can’t speak for anyone else, though. But if I cannot earn my victory through my own skill and strength, then I do not deserve it.”

Kingsley looks at me for a long moment, before nodding tersely. He holds up his hand in a staying gesture toward the other Aurors who are holding position on the perimeter, and I do likewise toward my friends inside the house.

“Wands, then?” Kingsley says.

“As the one challenged, I have the privilege of choosing my weapons, don’t I?” I ask.

“This is true,” Kingsley says. “You do not wish to use wands, then?”

“Swords,” I reply flatly. “And to make things fair, I will use a standard metal sword and not my magic light blade, since you do not have one.”

“You’re serious about this,” Kingsley says. “Formal duel it is, then. I know my way around a blade.”

So we call out seconds, and see about obtaining suitable weapons. An uneasy truce settles over the grounds while we make arrangements. Dobby brings out refreshments. The Aurors won’t touch them, although they look wistfully toward the cool glasses of lemonade and the tiny cucumber sandwiches.

“I hate to resort to this, but with all other government and justice systems having broken down, the only other alternative is outright warfare,” Kingsley says.

Rispy brings out a pair of swords. “Here you go. Two swords, well-crafted and unenchanted.”

“Do you keep an arsenal around just in case?” I ask.

“Absolutely,” Rispy says. “You should see my collection of crossbows.”

The Auror that Kingsley has chosen as his second is a pale, middle-aged man by the name of Dawlish. He waves a wand over them, then nods to Kingsley. “No magic on them, no fault or defect that I can detect.”

“Let us agree on the stakes,” I say. “If I should win, I will not harm you anymore than may be necessary, and you and your team are free to go, but you and yours will not harm me or mine nor interfere with our business. As our business does not involve _intentionally_ fucking over the world, that should not be too reprehensible to you.”

“If I win, you will go to Azkaban,” Kingsley says.

I narrow my eyes at him. “You cannot ask that of me.”

“I’m asking it,” Kingsley says. “Are you backing out now?”

Rage bubbles up through me, narrowly held in check by willpower. “Don’t ask that of me. I will agree to _anything_ else within reason, but don’t ask me to go to Azkaban.”

Rispy puts in, “I can’t guarantee your safety if you insist on imprisonment for him.”

“You can’t guarantee _my_ safety?” Kingsley asks.

“I can’t guarantee that he’d be able to hold back and keep this from turning into a war,” Rispy says.

Kingsley’s eyes fall upon my clenched fists. “You’re that terrified of the place. As well you should be.”

“That place is a fucking _nightmare_ that I would not wish upon my worst enemy,” I growl. “I would rather die. And that would entirely defeat the point of the exercise.”

“Then you’ll just have to win, then, won’t you,” Kingsley retorts.

I take a deep breath. _Through rage, I seek justice._ “I’ll warn you one more time. If you are going to ask Azkaban of me, then this will be a duel to the death, yours or mine. And I implore you, for the sake of both of our lives, _ask something else_.”

Kingsley gives me a long, considering look, and I have to wonder if he’s going to back down or not, but Dawlish clears his throat and pins him with a gaze.

“He isn’t asking much of us,” Dawlish says. “He would be well within his rights to have countered with the demand that _we_ go to Azkaban. He hasn’t asked that.”

“You really think he can win?” Kingsley asks.

Dawlish openly stares at him. “You have to consider the possibility.”

Rispy sighs. “Look. Just tell us to bugger off or something. Restitution or exile.”

“I strongly agree with that recommendation,” Dawlish says.

Kingsley eventually settles on, “Fine. Exile. If I win, you and yours are never to set foot in the British Isles again, and will leave by the end of the month.”

“Acceptable,” I say, calming. I take my sheathed blade in both hands, bow my head and close my eyes. “Through sorrow, I seek hope. Through rage, I seek justice. Through truth, I seek love. Through sorrow, I seek hope. Through life, I seek freedom.”

The mantra helps me to focus and control my emotions rather than letting them get the better of me. When I open my eyes again, Kingsley is standing across from me with his own sword.

“Are we ready to begin?” Rispy asks.

I nod tersely.

“I am,” Kingsley says. “May the best wizard win.”

We bow to one another and draw our weapons. The formalities taken care of, the world falls away and fades from my vision as I focus solely upon the duel. I wouldn’t generally have thought it a fair fight, no matter that he says he’s skilled with the blade, but this sword is heavier than I’m used to and I don’t have the size or muscle mass that I’m used to, either. Lightsabers weigh almost nothing, and this is no fencing foil, either.

I fall into Soresu form, focusing primarily upon defense as I get a feel for his skill and style, countering or evading his own testing attacks. He wasn’t exaggerating. He _does_ seem to know what he’s doing, at least. It would be foolish to underestimate an unknown opponent, to scoff at them and be unable to imagine that they could possibly come close to a Jedi Master I’d fought once. I’m not on Dantooine, and this is no Jedi. I don’t know what he’s capable of.

“Left-handed, huh,” Kingsley says. “Don’t think it’ll give you any advantage. I’ve gone up against a few lefites in my day.”

I say nothing. Words are a weapon just as much as a blade, and they can be a shield or a distraction. Kingsley slowly begins to grow frustrated with his inability to get through my defenses.

“Are you going to fight, or just block everything I send at you?” Kingsley wonders.

“I’ll fight when I’m good and ready,” I say with a grin.

“You’re not going to wear me out, you know,” Kingsley says. “I’m in prime health and whatever you might be inside, you’ve got the body of a child.”

He makes quick, precise strikes, trying to find any hole in my form to take advantage of. I block out everything else and let the Force guide my actions, let me sense where he might be about to strike next. The key to winning any fight is to know where your opponent’s blade will be before it’s there.

Kingsley overextends himself. In the middle of a strike, I shift suddenly into Juyo form, in one smooth motion going from all defense to wild, rapid attack. Kingsley recovers quickly, however, as if he’d been expecting that.

Something occurs to me. Aurors are wizards. They’ve been trained to fight _with magic_. That need not be solely restricted to wands. After all, there’s potions and any number of magic items as well. I don’t know what Auror training involves, but Kingsley’s reflexes remind me more of a Jedi than anything else.

I almost laugh aloud at the sheer joy of the fight. Juyo form is all passion and energy, something the Jedi tended to shy away from. You have to thrill in battle, and I’m enjoying a good fight here. It has been a while since I was challenged by a complete unknown like this. Dueling with blades seems somehow more pure than the harrowing all-out bloodthirsty war the Black Spiral Dancers bring.

Kingsley isn’t talking or taunting now. We dance. His advantage lies less in his skill and more in that he’s using styles I’m unfamiliar with. When going up against any Jedi or Sith, I know all their moves already because I’ve also learned all their forms. Dueling Club has not at all prepared me for this. But I wouldn’t be Darth Revan if I couldn’t learn and adapt.

In one blink of the mind’s eye, I see where his weapon will be, sense his next move, and I’m there first. With one swift strike, I knock the weapon out of his hands and send it falling to embed itself in the soft ground ten feet away.

I step forward and hold the tip of my blade to his throat for one moment. “You are beaten. Yield.”

Kingsley glances aside to where his sword fell, it having happened so quickly he hadn’t quite registered that the fight was over, before raising his hands. “I yield. You win.”

I nod, and lower my sword. “As promised, you and yours will be allowed to leave here unharmed.”

The other Aurors look about themselves, and one of them says quietly to Kingsley, “Sir… let’s go home.”

After a long moment, Kingsley nods wearily. He bows hesitantly toward me, then turns and walks away. One by one, the Aurors Disapparate. Kingsley remains last. He turns to give me one last look, and nods to me, then vanishes with a crack.


	2. Synchronization

There may not have been a real need to wait until Beltane before attempting another resurrection ritual for Tom, but we wanted to make sure it went _right_ , and double-check things regarding the soul weaves. Testing indicated that with the new weave structure, we will all be sent back in time when _any_ of us dies. I have no idea how that might react with someone who was already dead when we set up the weave. Ugh. That was a complication I didn’t expect.

“There’s no way we can account for every variable,” Gellert says.

“We can _try_ , though,” Cassie insists.

I shake my head. “All we can do is do our best and pray.”

“We’ll make this right,” Sirius says firmly.

As we work on setting up for the ritual, Hermione comes up to me and asks, “Will we be transferring to Salem for the next term of school?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it, but I don’t see why not,” I say. “We’ll need to acquire _someplace_ to stay there, since it might be inconvenient to try to commute across the ocean every day.”

“We should get a tent,” Luna suggests. “And spend some time camping in the wilderness. There’s so much open space there, and I’ve read about some fascinating creatures I want to see.”

“Sounds good to me,” I say. “You get to pick one out. No budget.” I grin. “It’d still be interesting to see what Suzy’s curriculum is like, though.”

“I’m in favor,” Gellert says. “Because she’d probably find it very annoying.”

Hermione sighs. “We’d be going there to learn, not just to annoy people.”

Gellert says lightly, “We all do things for our own reasons.”

We wake early on the morning of Beltane to gather at dawn for the ritual, and everyone takes their position. Despite myself, I’m nervous. The last Beltane resurrection ritual had gone perfectly except for the part where Tom had tried to kill me. He hadn’t remembered anything then, though, so I couldn’t have expected him to be blindly loyal to a boy he’d just met. I’m not still bitter about it.

As the first rays of dawn slip over the edge of the world, I take my position in the circle of runes and chant the words to the ritual. Energy courses through my veins, and rushes across my soul. Something shifts –

* * *

I wake up in my room at Caer Danas. Blinking, I reach out to sense the positions of the heavenly bodies to check the time. Two hours before dawn, waxing gibbous, Beltane. Frowning, I head out to the main room to meet up with the others. I’m not the only one who looks confused there.

“Did something go wrong?” I ask.

“I’m not sure,” Cassie says.

“Can we make some adjustments and try it again?” Hermione wonders.

“Would it help to try to construct a new body rather than shoving him back into the old one?” I ask.

“Could be,” Gellert says. “But I doubt it. He’d been hit by the Killing Curse, so there was no damage on it, and we preserved it immediately afterward. There shouldn’t be anything wrong with that body.”

“It’s a perfectly fine body,” Sirius agrees.

“Did we miscalculate somewhere?” I ask.

“Let’s try it again,” Gellert says.

We redo our calculations and attempt the ritual again, with the same result. Greatly puzzled, we quickly make some adjustments that we will need to reconstruct a body instead of putting Tom’s soul back in the old one. This is both ridiculous and worrying. That doesn’t work, either.

“What are we missing here?” I muse, staring in frustration at the rune complex on the floor. 

Dawn comes and goes while we’re poring over the setup and making adjustments. I let it pass this time. These attempts have taken some energy out of me, sure, but it’s not nearly as noticeable this time as when I’d performed some rituals before. Perhaps the energy requirements are better being balanced over several people now, or that this simply doesn’t take as much energy as I’d thought it would. Well, maybe it would take more energy if it actually _worked_.

“The way we’ve tested it, normally when one of us changes state, living to dead, the whole group snaps back to a previous state,” Hermione says. “But since he was already dead when we set up the soul weave, what if that left him desynchronized with the rest of us?”

“Desynchronized...” I repeat. “Gellert, is there a rune for ‘synchronize’?”

“Nope,” Gellert replies with a smirk.

“Then let’s make one.”

“Yes, of course!” Hermione exclaims, pulling out parchment and pen.

“Why is it if there’s seven thousand runes of magic, that doesn’t include common programming functions?” I wonder.

“They’d rather be able to specify the kind of goat they’re sacrificing,” Gellert says lightly, but then sobers. “The wizards who made those runes don’t _think_ like you do. You’ve got a very different paradigm of magic than them. Look at you, here. You’ve cobbled together magic from how many distinct systems, and somehow made them work for you? It’s a wonder any of it works at all.”

“I’ve apparently learned a lot of magic systems from scratch,” I comment. “Remembering nothing and getting into them with a blank slate. I might not remember all the details or what I learned but I _know_ that I learned them.”

“We need to be careful,” Cassie says. “If we ‘synchronize’ Tom to us and all wind up stuck as wraiths ourselves, that would not be very helpful.”

“Yeah, let’s not do that,” I say with a smirk. “Pretty sure my own magic would kick in and go ‘nope’ and reset anyway if that happened, though.”

“I’ve been reading about the development of spellcasting and the use of wands in magic,” Hermione says. “I ordered some books on the subject and it has been quite fascinating. Apparently, rune magic fell out of favor as wands were developed so that people would be more capable of casting spells on the fly without ritual and preparation. But wand-cast spells are themselves derived from runes, originating from tracing runes in the air with the tip of the wand and reciting a keyword or abbreviated version of a ritual.”

“ _Why_ doesn’t History of Magic cover things like that?” I wonder.

“Because Professor Binns probably couldn’t teach properly even before he became a ghost,” Gellert puts in. “Not sure if more students would be interested in the development of spellcasting than the Goblin Rebellions, though.”

“There are limits to what wanded magic can do, though,” Hermione says. “Since it draws primarily upon the inherent magical energy of the caster, it requires a good deal more personal strength to achieve its effects. With many rituals, even Squibs and children can participate.”

“Where did you find books on ritual magic, though?” Cassie wonders.

Hermione snorts softly. “I couldn’t find anything in the official public catalogues, so I asked Abraxas and he got Lucius to send a few books from the Malfoy library for me.”

Cassie smirks. “Did he mention to Lucius who the books were for?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione says, then sighs. “Most of the other Slytherins got annoyed at me whenever I started talking about magical theory.”

“Eh, don’t worry about them,” Gellert says with a crooked grin. “ _We_ appreciate you.”

We finish up the adjustments, break for a late breakfast, and prepare for a noon ritual. I have a good feeling about this one. We gather around Tom’s preserved body, a little morbidly, and I stand at the head of the circle and raise aloft my wand.

“Synchronization, _initiate._ ” I sweep my wand down and point it at the body.

Energy surges and the runes on the floor flare into light. A shifting sensation, of things slipping back into their proper places. Tom’s chest raises as he gasps in a breath, and his eyes snap open. Sirius rushes over to hug him and help him to his feet.

“You got it working,” Tom says, giving a weak smile to Sirius.

“The credit goes to Hermione,” I say.

“We have a lot of work to do,” Tom says.

“And lost time to make up for,” Sirius adds.

* * *

Susan Lawson groans aloud when she sees us arrive at her school. "You transferred here. You seriously transferred here. You got expelled from Hogwarts and now you come here?"

"Technically, we expelled ourselves," Gellert says cheerfully.

"It is a perfectly fine and legitimate institution," Abraxas says.

"With excellent educational opportunities," Hermione says.

"It will be fascinating to study the local wildlife," Luna adds.

"You know as well as I do that you lot aren't going to be spending anymore time attending classes than you have to," Suzy says.

"Hey, it'll provide good cover," I say.

Suzy puts her face in her palm. "You don't even try to deny it. I mean, look, I'm fine with it, if any of you are actually interested in studying. Our curriculum is vastly superior to Hogwarts, I've made sure of that myself."

Hermione's expression brightens at that.

"But you will not cause trouble while you're here," Suzy warns. "If anything like what you pulled in London happens here, I won't just expel you from the school, I'll expel you from the universe."

"About that..." I say. "Can you tell me how to get back to Torn Elkandu?"

Suzy rolls her eyes. "Stormseeker, how exactly could you forget how to Recall? A Nexus forms a link between it and your soul that puts a beacon in your mind that only requires activation. At any rate, no, I can't tell you. We had to shut it down shortly after you left. Whatever it was you did utilized the Nexus in such a way that it severely damaged it and destabilized it."

"Damn," I say. "But there's still Drakanna, isn't there?"

Suzy nods tersely. "And Calarey, the Kalkandu base. And others. I don't really care to list all the Nexi. Most of them aren't readily accessible from Earth."

"How many of those things are there?" Abraxas wonders.

"I'm not sure," Suzy says. "Most of them are defunct. Sufficient skill and energy should be able to restore some of those at least. I'm not going to Iron City to try to reactivate its Nexus though, and I'd advise you against seeking it out, either. If it's a Nexus you want, Drakanna and Calarey are your best bets."

"Do you know where they are?" I ask.

"On this side of the Veil? No," Suzy replies. "I didn't spend much time on Earth in my future, prior to the Elkandu Crisis, and it was inaccessible after that." She pauses thoughtfully. "I did have sex with Voldemort once, though."

I sputter. "You what?"

Suzy waves it off without further explanation. "My school in that timeline was the Manhattan Academy of Magic, up until it was destroyed. I believe I like Salem better, though. I've been constructing some additions and making adjustments to suit my tastes, of course. You might get a chance to see some of them, should you decide to show up for classes." She smirks.

"We're hoping to stop Jez'kai and find a way to destroy him," I say.

Suzy groans, then nods. "I can get behind that goal. If he can be eliminated before he can cause too much trouble, so much the better."

"Before he can find a Nexus," I add.

"Before he can find a Nexus," Suzy agrees.

"Do you know how many others came back along with you?" I ask.

Suzy raises an eyebrow. "Others came back?"

"Dozens, if not hundreds," I say. "I asked for regrets, and people answered."

"There were a lot of regrets to go around in those days," Suzy says. "Sometimes I think the multiverse was made of nothing but regret. I'm not sure that there was a happy ending for anyone there. Things just kept getting worse, even when you thought the multiverse had hit rock bottom, it found some new way to screw everyone over. I don't know how many people it would have taken to change the universe in that way, how many regrets, but it seems it was enough."

"I was able to extract a memory of it, but I don't recognize most of them," I say. "I saw them appear in the Nexus, briefly."

"Can you show me the memory?" Suzy asks. "I may be able to analyze it better. I would probably recognize many of them."

I nod. "Alright."

"Go ahead and send it to me," Suzy says.

"I didn't bring my memory vials with me, but I could make another copy," I say.

"What?" Suzy asks in confusion. "I meant just send it to my mind."

I raise an eyebrow. "I'm really not that good with mental abilities."

"Not even to organize your mind?" Suzy asks.

I shake my head. "I'm afraid not."

"Okay, you had better show up to my classes on that," Suzy says. "We'll just have to use a Pensieve, then. Come on."

She leads me off to her office. I put my wand to my head and extract the memory and place it into the basin, and the two of us enter the memory. The Nexus appears around us, a rush of magic surrounding the past version of me, and people begin to fade into existence one by one.

"Can you pause it after everyone is here?" Suzy asks.

"I guess so?" I say. “How?”

She gives a brief explanation, and I nod. I do remember the point where everyone had arrived. I've certainly watched this memory enough times. I will the playback to pause at the appropriate spot.

Suzy walks through Torn Elkandu, looking at each person. "You don't even know how to read auras?"

"Not really, no," I say.

"You are going to show up at those classes," Suzy says. "That's a basic skill everyone should learn."

"I'll take that into advisement," I say.

Suzy shakes her head incredulously. "Is your magical knowledge really this spotty?"

"To be fair, I've forgotten most of what I know," I say. "I was most recently in the Star Wars universe, and the Force-users there barely know what they're doing."

Suzy sighs. "I suppose there's no help for it, then. Hogwarts certainly doesn't teach anything useful." She waves her hand at the figures standing frozen around the Nexus. "I can recognize some of them. Others, maybe if I could see their auras." She walks along between them, looking side to side. "I could list some names, but they wouldn't mean much to you. It's very likely that some of them are somewhere in this world, though."

"Would some of them not have been born yet?" I wonder.

Suzy shrugs. "Timestreams and the multiverse don't always work how you would expect them to. When I came back to the past, I was a child who hadn't even met the Elkandu yet. Needless to say, I went straight to Torn Elkandu and didn't look back. I didn't care to relive my childhood and never liked my birth town anyway." She gestures to Sedder. "Sedder, at least, was one of the founding members of the Elkandu." She gestures to a woman I think I saw in Sardill's vision. "Rettah here was alive, certainly, though I'm not sure if she'd joined the Drakandu yet." She waves a hand at another woman. "I don't know if Kalli's been born yet, or if it matters, considering the connection to her universe might not have properly forged yet."

"What do you mean?" I wonder.

"The Interdimensional Bridge," Suzy says. "It wasn't so much that it allowed travel between universes, but that it made such travel easy and kept those universes in sync with one another, once it had fully settled. Normally, using the Nexus would have allowed us to visit any point in their timestreams."

"Wait," I say. "Wait a minute. I distinctly remember Keolah telling me that she'd never heard of time travel being possible."

Suzy is quiet for a moment. "That's probably Falk's fault." She groans. "Did he seriously retroactively prevent Time Magic from working? It's a wonder that the very attempt wouldn't have caused paradoxes serious enough to destroy him, if not tear the timeline apart."

"Time paradoxes, I assume, and not 'mage' paradoxes," I say.

"They aren't really different," Suzy says. "Time paradoxes happen when something clearly incongruous happens. They'll cause backlash, too. It's what eventually resolved the Temporal Convergence. Even the Elkandu have limits as to what level of nonsense they'll tolerate. The collective belief that the universe shouldn't work like that should have stopped Falk from doing what he did." She sighs. "And it's probably my fault that he got away with as much as he did. He learned my shortcuts and how to hack reality. I suppose he went along with what enough people supported. And people with little to no magic vastly outnumbered us mages."

I run my fingers down one of the runed obelisks that make up the Nexus. "And here I'd thought that it would have just been bad for someone like me for that future to come to pass."

"Not in the least," Suzy says. "Why do you think so many people had powerful regrets? Powerful enough to move the universe. I don't like what you did to the Ministry of Magic, but that was inconsequential next to some of the things I saw. Entire worlds enslaved or destroyed. In the case of what those vampires did, they'd enslaved an entire galactic empire. Which Jez'kai readily took over through them. And the magic? Magic is our lifeblood. Let the beliefs of the majority hold too much sway and soon the non-humans and magical creatures would vanish, one by one, or be forced to retreat into the Ethereal Plane."

"You want to bring down the Statute of Secrecy too," I observe.

"Of course," Suzy says. "The wizards in this world pulled themselves away so much that they didn't realize it was slowly killing them and their magic." She passes by a young man with bright green eyes. "Azale hasn't been born yet. I wonder what he regretted." She snorts softly. "I wonder if anyone came back who regretted something that happened between them and someone else... and the other person came back too, having regretted the same thing. I'm not sure whether that would be completely counterproductive, or help bring them together."

"Will we forever be living in a past future that will never happen?" I wonder.

"It happened to us," Suzy says. "It was real to us. That we were able to come back from walking down that road doesn't change the fact that we walked it." She moves on to study another person. "But I'm not going to dwell on it. I have a school and students to teach. I have research to do and a life to lead. That's all I ever really wanted. I never wanted to be a god."

"Didn't you have friends, in that future?" I ask. "People you'd like to see again?"

Suzy shrugs. "Yes. But I accept that it won't be the same. They may as well be different people. But that's fine. They didn't go through the same experiences as me. I'm not going to obsess over befriending them again. I've met new people and made new friends. I just wish I didn't still have to deal with the same old enemies." She scans over the crowd. "I'm just glad I don't see here any of those. They wouldn't have regretted what happened nor what they did."

"I sought out people I'd known before," I say distantly. "Even though they didn't remember me, with one notable exception. But I wound up making new friends I hadn't expected, too."

"You soulbound them," Suzy says, looking at me.

"You can tell?" I ask.

Suzy nods. "Remember what I said about being able to read auras? I can easily tell just from glancing at you. This particular bond is like none I've ever seen, though, and considering some of the weaves I've designed, that's impressive."

"I did have help in designing it," I say.

"It's strong, and leaves you all as equals," Suzy says. "Not like the normal demonic slave bond at all. You're the sort of person who connects deeply with others. I never was. Not even with those I slept with."

"I'd rather not imagine you having sex with people, if it's all the same to you," I say. "I mean, it's not that you're unattractive or anything."

Suzy chuckles. "I'm not offended."

I clear my throat. "Do you recognize anyone else here? Anyone that might cause problems?"

Suzy nods. "Sedder might. The Jordans here are unpredictable. The Kitsune are very unpredictable. I'll keep an ear to the ground, but I really have other things to do than worry about them. They might cause mischief, but aren't likely to do it on any grand scale."

"Do you know how I can neutralize Jez'kai's immortality?" I ask.

"No," Suzy says. "If I knew that, I'd have done it in my prior timestream. And Falk would definitely have done it rather than merely remove his power and force him out of the universe."

"Damn, I guess it was too much to hope for," I say.

"For that task, I'll give you whatever support you need," Suzy says. She gestures to the crowd. "I'll make a list of the ones I recognize, but I'd like to revisit this memory once you've learned how to read auras."

"Would that help a memory?" I wonder. "If I didn't see the auras in the first place..."

"It might or it might not," Suzy says. "Costs nothing to try. Let's go rejoin your friends."

We leave the Pensieve and return to the lobby, where my friends have been looking over the course curriculum and schedules.

"Alright, I'm going to place you all in the interdimensional dorm," Suzy says.

"Don't you mean the international dorm?" Hermione asks.

"No, I definitely meant interdimensional," Suzy says with a smirk.

"You have an interdimensional dorm?" I wonder.

"I set one aside just in case," Suzy says. "I've dealt with interdimensional cases a lot, in my other life, as you might expect. You definitely will need your own space so that you don't infect the rest of my students with your crazy too badly."

Abraxas snorts in amusement. "I would argue that, but I know these people."

* * *

While the others settle into our dorm at Salem, I take a trip to see the local werewolves with Tom, Sirius, and Remus. As they’re adults and unable to pass as children without the use of more Time Magic age fuckery, they’ve decided to split from the children for the time being and get some investigating done.

Much as I want to plunge head-first into tracking down a teleportation device and an evil werewolf, there’s good reason I’d bided my time up until this point as well. I have no leads on where to even begin, and it always seems like there are other things that need doing. And the things Suzy says she will be teaching in her classes sound incredibly useful, if not completely vital, to know. She didn’t need to stress that point enough to convince me of that. I want to do some exploring myself, but for the moment, actually attending classes sounds like a very good idea.

Remus parks outside an address I’d been given, and we climb out of the car. A blue car, this time, bought used when we arrived in the States, with the steering wheel on the other side of the car. That might be a little disorienting if I were the one actually doing the driving.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Sirius wonders, raising an eyebrow at the colored lights. “Not that I’m going to complain, mind you, but why did Millennium Falcon direct us to a casino?”

“That’s a very good question,” I say. “Especially considering I look like a kid.”

“It would appear that there is an attached hotel as well,” Remus says, starting off across the carpark.

Neon lights proclaim the place to be the ‘Thunderbird Casino & Resort’, complete with a fifty-foot bird made of electric lights flapping its wings against the slate-gray afternoon sky.

“This is incredibly gaudy,” Tom says disdainfully.

“I wonder if they have strippers,” Sirius muses.

Tom snickers. “You’re lucky jealousy is beneath me.”

“If you were going to be the jealous sort, I would not have suggested looking twice at Sirius,” Remus says with a smirk.

We head inside and go up to the front desk, where a sharply-dressed young man stands behind a computer terminal. He smiles at us, and his smile widens as he leans over his desk to look down at me through square black-framed glasses.

“Good day, gentlemen,” he says. “The all-ages area and kiddie bar is down the hallway.” He points. “You can’t miss it. If you’re looking for the hotel, you’ll want the next desk.”

“We’re looking for a Mr. Squire,” Remus says. “Jack Squire.”

“Oh! That sort of Jackpot. Right. That’s me. Got a call from London telling me to expect you, but…”

“You expected I’d be taller?” I say. “I’m the one they call the Stormseeker.”

“Right, he said you had green eyes. He wasn’t kidding.” He calls a raven-haired girl named Annie over to cover the front desk and leads us off up a locked staircase. We wind up in a small but comfortable office area, and he gestures to us to take a seat on the couch before continuing. “Alright, now that we’re in private. The name’s Jackpot, Glass Walker and wizard.”

“What’s a werewolf doing working the front desk?” Sirius wonders.

Jackpot grins. “You get to see everyone that comes in and out and get a feel for what’s going on on the ground. And if someone interesting like you shows up, best to get someone to shuffle you out of the way who’s in on the loop, and not a clueless No-Maj.”

“A what?” Sirius says.

“Right, you guy are British,” Jackpot says. “Non-magical. Ordinary people who aren’t wizards or werewolves or vampires or any other sort of supernatural crap.”

“You mean Muggles?” Sirius says.

“That’s what you call them over on that side of the pond?” Jackpot says, raising an eyebrow. “You can’t be serious.”

“In fact, my name is Sirius Black.”

I roll my eyes. “And to think, we almost managed to go a whole six months without anyone making a Sirius joke.”

Remus clears his throat. “Terribly rude of us not to introduce ourselves. I’m Remus Lupin, also known as Moony, of the Bone Gnawers tribe.”

“Tom Hawke,” Tom adds.

“Right, pleasure to meet you guys,” Jackpot says. “Now, _Muggles_? Really? That just sounds like, I don’t know, some sort of cute little stuffed animal or something. Ah, well, I guess it’s to be expected, everyone talks weird over there anyway.”

“Jackpot,” I say. “We’re looking for information about a Black Spiral Dancer by the name of Fenrir Greyback, also known as Jez’kai.”

“Ah, right, _him_ ,” Jackpot says. “Bad news, that one. Last I’ve heard, he’s set up with a law firm in Selenis, Maine.”

“He’s a lawyer?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

“I know, right?” Jackpot says. “He’s working under the alias Arkadi Stark. I’ll compile everything I’ve got on him or suspect is even remotely connected to him. Won’t be sorry if _that_ sunnavabitch gets what’s coming to him. You guys going to be needing a place to stay? I do happen to work at a hotel, after all.”

“Me and the other kids will be staying at the dorms for now. What about you three?”

“Hmm,” Sirius says, grinning and rubbing his chin. “You know, I’ve never stayed at a casino resort before. Will the charges be covered?”

“Sirius, you’re rich,” I point out.

“Also, I forbid you to make yourself poor by excessive gambling,” Tom adds.

“We do have work to do, too,” Remus puts in.

“It’ll be a good cover,” Sirius says. “A trio of strapping young Englishmen on holiday. Ohh, I’ve got to see if the American ladies find my accent sexy.”

Tom laughs softly and shakes his head. “Alright, alright, we’ll stay at the resort while we’re conducting our investigation so long as we’re in this part of the country.”

“Be sure to write if you find out anything interesting,” I say. We’d made up a pair of linked books to communicate and share information more easily across distances. Eventually we might wind up having to make one for each of us, if this system works out.

“Let’s get you back to school,” Remus says. “And be glad that Suzy doesn’t seem to care if you loiter there all summer.”

“One has to wonder why Dumbledore could not have been so accommodating,” Tom comments distantly.

“No, I think she’s planning to spring summer classes on us,” I say.

“Ugh, well, good luck with that,” Sirius says. “Moony! Can you get Harry back to his dorm? Tom and me are gonna hit the bar.”

Remus chuckles and nods. “Right then, have fun.”


	3. A Walk in the Park

The interdimensional dorm at the Salem Witches’ Institute is comfortable and decorated mainly in cream and purple, but the common room is dominated by an enormous orrery depicting the structure of the solar system. Instead of having actual lamps, you wind up having to read by the light of a glowing orb representing a planet or moon. It’s really a little distracting and not particularly convenient.

There are two dorm areas, one for the three boys on the right and one for the three girls on the left, leading off from the common room. Suzy doesn’t appear to have bothered to separate us by age. I suppose it would figure that she knew we probably weren’t the age we appeared to be anyway, for many of us. It’s just as well, though. I’d hate for Hermione to wind up having to be alone.

“You didn’t want to spend the summer with your family, Hermione?” Cassie asks.

Hermione shakes her head. “It’s… for the best.”

“I see that you ‘kids’ are getting settled in,” Suzy says from the entrance. “Alright, I know some of you have had a year or two, or seven, or countless forgotten lifetimes of schooling. I teach my courses a little differently than they do at Hogwarts, though, and I cover different material. I’ll start you all in at the equivalent of second year if you can learn the basics of what is taught to beginning students.”

“The equivalent?” Abraxas asks. “You have years set up differently?”

Suzy nods. “Welcome to America. You’ll be coming in as ‘seventh grade’ students if you can master mana sensing and aura reading before September.”

“Seventh?” Abraxas repeats. “You mean you teach children starting from a much younger age?”

“Yeah, the government types were dubious about me wanting to open up an elementary school branch,” Suzy says. “But I did it anyway. I’m sure they’ll be convinced by how much more of a solid foundation that their children have on magic and life than the ones who didn’t start school until they were eleven.”

“Normally we just teach children at home until they’re old enough to go to Hogwarts,” Abraxas says.

“Five good years of education gone to waste, sometimes,” Suzy says. “Especially for the Muggleborns. I’m sure that’s all just discrimination against Muggleborns coupled with generations of tradition.”

“You support Muggleborns?” Hermione says, her eyes lighting up.

Suzy laughs lightly and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I _am_ Muggleborn. And look at me now. I was the greatest of the Elkandu. Don’t ever let anyone tell you you can’t do something or that you’re somehow lesser than them.”

Abraxas gives a grunt but doesn’t say anything. 

“In Torn Elkandu, there was a family, the Chelseers,” Suzy says, her eyes landing on me. “They didn’t actually make up the majority of the Elkandu, although it seemed like it sometimes, considering how prolific they were. They did, however, make up the bulk of its leadership. They were, in many ways, like your typical pureblood family in Britain. Able to trace their family line back a thousand years, ticking off several notable ancestors along the way, often marrying their cousins.”

“You make them sound not very flattering,” I say.

“They weren’t,” Suzy says with a sigh. “They were headstrong, foolish, reckless. They made a right mess of things sometimes. You can’t judge the individual by the group, though, and many of them at least _meant_ well, even if they fucked things up pretty badly.”

“That does sound like me,” I say with a smirk.

“Anyway, they went off to different places to find people with magical potential to bring back to Torn Elkandu to teach,” Suzy says. “I was one of them. They tended not to think much of us, though. Not unless we had some weird innate power that was unusually strong or rare. I didn’t. I was just a typical Fire Mage, an elementalist who wouldn’t normally be given much consideration beyond being used as a shock trooper, and not even a very strong one at that.”

“But you learned,” Hermione says.

“I learned,” Suzy says, nodding. “I studied. I never gave up. I never let their opinions get me down. I never let my low innate power level hold me back. I learned shortcuts. I learned to use magic more efficiently. I developed methods they never thought of. And after a while, I _terrified_ them.”

“Was this before, or after, you got possessed by a demon?” I wonder.

Suzy groans. “ _That_ was a foolish attempt at reaching for more power. It was more trouble than it was worth and I don’t recommend that path.” 

“Aren’t you still possessed now?” I ask.

“It’s more complicated than you realize,” Suzy replies. “While we did mostly merge, she wound up counterbalancing the Weaver influence and prevented me from fully becoming an emotionless drone. While she started off as pure rage and bloodlust, she mellowed out to become more of a spirit of passion and inspiration.”

“That’s still worrying,” Cassie says.

Suzy shrugs. “Should I also mention how a Kuei-jin taught me Soul Magic?” 

“A what?” Cassie asks.

“Eastern vampire,” Suzy says. “Don’t mess with them if you can help it.”

“And now you’re teaching children?” Cassie asks.

“Now I’m bringing centuries of experience to a world that badly needs it, and hoping to change the world for the better.”

“What _you_ think is for the better,” Abraxas says.

“What many people would think is for the better is a world without the supernatural,” Suzy retorts. “I intend to bring down the Statute of Secrecy and reign in a new golden age of magic.”

“Right then,” Abraxas says. “Good luck with that. I do hope to be out of this universe before it comes back to haunt you.”

“I say she has the right idea,” Gellert puts in.

Abraxas snorts. “You would.” 

“Oh, I don’t plan on doing anything just yet, or quickly,” Suzy says. “Immortality gives you the perspective of patience.”

“What is it that you want us to learn before autumn term begins?” Hermione asks.

“I don’t care what you do with the rest of your summer, but if you show up every Monday at noon, I’ll cover the basics of aura reading,” Suzy says. “I’ve been trying to teach this to every child that comes into my school as soon as possible. It will make everything you do with magic a lot easier if you can actually sense magic properly.”

“How does that work?” Hermione asks.

“It will allow you to effectively ‘see’ magic as an overlay upon the physical world,” Suzy says. “It took the Elkandu centuries to realize how useful this actually was and make this standard practice. So I come here with that experience to know what worked and what didn’t.”

“Oh!” Hermione says. “That _does_ sound very useful. Is there anything else you’ll teach us this summer?”

Suzy chuckles. “Eager to get going, are you? You’ve got my library and your disposal if you want to study and practice on your own. Yes, don’t worry about the Trace or underage magic or any of that. You’re inside a school. That’s what it’s _for_. Stupid restriction anyway. Tell me you got that dealt with before you came over here. Wait, you _did_ blow up the Ministry of Magic. Whatever. Just ignore it. You’re going to anyway. ” 

“Such rigid adherence to protocol,” Abraxas drawls.

“I’m used to dealing with your sort,” Suzy says with a smirk.

“ _My_ sort,” Abraxas repeats. “Not so long ago, I was an upstanding member of the wizarding community of Britain. A distinguished scion of a pureblood family. I had a son and a grandson. And then I met Revan and was accidentally drawn into a ritual to restore youth and wipe away the traces of old age. I’ve never been to another world, and have yet to travel through time more than a few hours.”

“And yet you’re here,” Suzy says. “Everything changed. You had to bend the rules because the rules no longer made sense under your circumstances.”

“I was just another Muggleborn attending Hogwarts,” Hermione says.

“Top of our class,” I add.

“Growing up, I’d never expected a world where magic was possible, and just when I got used to that, Harry told me about dimensional travel. The ability to visit other universes. I don’t even know where the horizon is now.”

Suzy chuckles. “Tell you a secret. There isn’t one. The multiverse just becomes more strange and wonderful the more you discover.” 

“I’m not used to _breaking the rules_ , though,” Hermione says.

“You’ll get over it,” Gellert puts in.

“I’m not sure whether casual disregard for the rules is entirely a good thing,” Hermione says.

“The rules of any given place aren’t necessarily in your best interest,” I say.

“Like what if Muggleborns were rounded up and killed by the legitimate government?” Gellert asks.

Hermione frowns. “You have to have _some_ restrictions on what you can do, though.” 

“Nothing but what you can decide on yourself,” I say. “Nobody else can tell you what your values are. Not to say that you should flaunt acting out without regard for consequences.”

“This from the person who blew up the Ministry of Magic,” Gellert says with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “Rules change from time to time and place to place. Your own morals are eternal.”

“I suppose so,” Hermione says.

“I’m not a Muggleborn,” Luna says. “People always thought I was weird, though. They called me ‘Loony’. I never really belonged with them. I wanted to see what else is out there.”

Suzy nods. “Understandably.”

“You don’t hold a very high opinion of dimension travelers, considering you _are_ one,” I point out.

“Powerful, nigh-immortal beings who might show up anywhere on a whim with no connection or stake in what might happen in a place?” Suzy says. “You might not be so bad, yet, with most of you having just begun your planes hopping, but mark my words, if you’re not careful, you may wind up causing more destruction than you could imagine, and not even always intentionally.”

“We’ll try not to, I’m sure,” Luna says.

“Not without good reason, at least,” I say.

“Good reason for you may be normal and stable for those living in a world,” Suzy says.

“ _You_ want to change the world, though,” Gellert says.

“The _right_ way,” Suzy says. “By guidance and making slow adjustments, not by ripping a hole in society and then leaving them to sort it out themselves.”

“Alright, alright, you’ve made your point,” I say, throwing up my hands.

“Good,” Suzy says, turning for the door. “I'll see you on Monday.”

The boys’ dorm is arranged with three beds in alcoves along the left wall, and a door leading to the bathroom at the right. They’re not the canopy beds I’m used to from Hogwarts, but given that there are dividers between each bed, that’s still more privacy than I got aboard a spaceship. I claimed the bed closest to the door. 

“So, what was in the room?” Gellert asks, flopping on the end of my bed.

“You know, _your_ bed is over there,” I say with a smirk. “What room?”

“The Peverell storage room at Caer Danas,” Gellert says. “Did Tom check it out?”

“Oh, that room,” I say. “Yeah, he said there were a bunch of scrolls inside but didn’t let me look at them yet. He took a couple of them to study, though.”

“Bastard,” Gellert says lightly.

Luna strolls into the room. “Hello, Stormseeker, Phoenix.” 

“You know, this is the boy’s dorm, Luna,” I say, smirking again.

“Yes, of course,” Luna says. “Shall we go camping this weekend? We have that lovely tent and I’m sure there are plenty of places nearby.”

“Remus has the car,” I say.

“We could take a bus,” Luna says.

“I’m in,” Gellert says.

I chuckle. “Alright, sure, why not.” 

Come morning, we gather up the tent and whatever supplies we think we might need, and head out. The others had decided to stay behind and study, leaving the three of us to head out and get some fresh air. 

The thing they don’t tell you about America is that there’s so _much_ of it. While living on a spaceship, I rarely appreciated how big a planet actually is. While living in Britain, I didn’t really appreciate how small a part of the planet it actually is. Looking at a map is nothing next to actually getting out and seeing it for myself. 

“Morning, kids,” says the bus driver. “Where’s your parents?”

“At the casino,” Gellert says with an exaggerated eyeroll.

“Mighty irresponsible of them,” he comments.

“Don’t worry, I’m older than I look,” I say, fishing around for bus fare and trying to find the right currency.

“Those are pounds, son,” the driver says. “I can’t take those.”

“Oh, right.” I pull out some different paper money.

“No, those are Canadian. You’re in America.”

“Right, here we go,” I say, finally handing over the correct currency.

* * *

“Do you have any idea how we might be able to find the Nexus, Stormseeker?” Luna asks as we stroll through the forest.

“Besides taking a jaunt straight across the Umbra?” I say. “Best lead is to find Sedder. And the best lead to finding Sedder is that Kitsune singer, Fantasia. I don’t really want to deal with him, myself, though. He seemed… broken, when I spoke to him last. Not the man I remember killing me at all. I just don’t know if I could even speak with him without the echoes of pain and suffering hanging between us, no matter how supposedly reformed he may or may not be.”

“You should give him a chance,” Luna says.

I grunt. “Maybe.” 

“The future you and Suzcecoz described did not sound like a very nice place to be,” Luna says, making a face.

“Suzcecoz?” I repeat. “Her name, and not some title?”

“Her aura is… strange,” Luna says. “I can’t read it.”

“How so?” I ask. “The part about how she’s possessed?”

Luna shakes her head. “I think she must be masking her aura in some way. It’s like there’s gauze over it all. Tepid, brown gauze covering up what lies beneath.” 

“Do you think we can trust her?” I wonder.

“Pretty sure we already _know_ her dark secrets,” Gellert points out.

“I’m not sure that we’d be able to do anything about it if she decided she didn’t want us around,” Luna says. “She said she’d expel us from the universe. I think she can back up that threat.”

“She probably knows more about Soul Magic than any of us, all things considered, too,” Gellert says. “Much as it pains me to admit it. Between the demon, the Kuei-jin, and however many centuries she spent practicing it. I would _not_ want to provoke her.”

“And yet she still doesn’t know how to kill Jez’kai,” I say. “She can sense our Soul Bonds. Wouldn’t she be able to sense his Horcrux, too?”

“I don’t know,” Gellert says.

“I’d like to meet a Kitsune,” Luna says.

“That could probably be arranged,” I say with a grin. “I guess I really ought to take a trip to Selenis myself before school starts up and not just leave it to the men.”

Luna looks off and says, “Oh, is that a squonk?” 

“I don’t know,” I reply, without even bothering to ask what a squonk is.

_Something_ feels wrong all of a sudden, though. I hold up a hand and pause, close my eyes and reach out with the Force. No, I’m not imagining it. There’s a Dark Side presence nearby, but I can’t quite pinpoint it. I open my eyes and charge off into the brush, ignoring the signs that say to stay on the path. Gellert and Luna follow after me silently. I can practically smell the stench of darkness and decay on the air. 

I stumble and almost fall, and steady myself on a tree. A muddy slope leads down to what looks like a hollow hidden behind rocks and hanging moss. I wouldn’t have even known it was here if it weren’t for my Force senses and, more importantly, Luna pointing it out to me. Puddles from a recent rain sit slick before us, but the water is murky and stinks, and even the weeds near it are withered. The birds have stopped chirping and the air has gone still. 

I glance back to the others, but they don’t need my silent warning to be careful. Luna is right behind me, frowning and peering about worriedly, and Gellert is watching our backs. Keeping my lightsaber in hand, but not ignited for the moment, I pull aside the moss and peer into the darkness. It’s impossible to tell from here how far down it goes. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Luna whispers.

Gellert casts, “ _Lumos_ ,” and light shines from the tip of his wand, illuminating a murky tunnel leading down into the side of the hill. A roof of gnarled roots hangs over a slick and steep slope. 

“Well, if we go down there, it’ll be messy and hard to get back up,” I comment quietly.

“That’s what magic is for.” Gellert doesn’t hesitate, and simply slides down and pulls out his lightsaber.

“I was more concerned about slipping and falling on my arse than getting dirty.” I smirk, slide down, and clamber to my feet again. “You okay, Luna?”

She nods, and makes her way down with a bit more caution. “I’m alright. Let’s see who lives here.” 

Setting aside the concern of too much stealth at the moment, Gellert and I ignite our gold and blue lightsabers. Luna doesn’t have one yet, but she has her wand in hand. I suppose that will have to do. We’ll have to protect her if anything tries to leap out at us and rip out our throats. 

“There’s claw marks in the ground,” Luna whispers. “See them? They’re big. They dug ruts into the mud.” She pauses thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s a Glawackus.”

“I don’t know,” I say, again not asking what a Glawackus is.

The tunnel opens up into a warren of twisty passages, and I tense warily. It will be difficult to watch our flanks, not to mention that we will need to be careful not to get lost down here. 

T he shadows move in the caves in front of us, and snarling sounds close in as feral eyes gleam out of the darkness. One leaps, a scruffy, brown form marked by the mutant features of a Black Spiral Dancer. 

I sweep my lightsaber and score a mark. It yelps in pain, but that hardly gives it pause. Another werewolf appears at the side and snaps its jaws across Luna’s throat – 

* * *

I wake in the interdimensional dorm. Damn, fucking Spirals. Maybe it’s just as well that the soul weave wants to work like this. I wouldn’t leave any of them for dead regardless of how many times it might take to get things right.

Luna is in the common room when I come out, sitting on a couch and looking more than a little shaken. I slip over to take a seat next to her.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

Luna nods. “I’m fine. I just – well, I’ve never died like that before. It felt so real.”

“It _was_ real,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize for me not being dead, Stormseeker,” Luna says.

“It takes some getting used to,” I say.

“How many times do you have to die before the pain and suffering doesn’t bother you any longer?” Luna wonders.

“I don’t know,” I say, putting an arm around her. “I don’t think it ever _stops_ bothering me. You just have to be strong and see things through anyway, and realize that it can’t get you down. That no matter what happens to you, you _will_ survive.”

Luna is quiet for a moment. “We should warn Suzcecoz. Those were Black Spiral Dancers.”

I nod in agreement and pull away. “Yeah, and they’re not far from here at all. I suppose this derailed our camping trip a bit.”

“It’s alright,” Luna says, smiling weakly. “We can go camp somewhere else later.”

The two of us head out of the dorm area and down the corridor through the school toward Suzy’s office. When we get to the waiting area, a glowing yellow orb hovering over the desk flashes, and a voice tells us, “Professor Lawson is busy at the moment. Please wait. She will be noticed of your presence and get to you as soon as she can.”

“Thank you,” I reply, and go to take a seat with Luna.

“Please feel free to avail yourself of the reading material on the tables while you wait,” the orb goes on.

“You sure you’re alright, Luna?” I ask. “We probably got a little careless and weren’t covering you as well as we could have been.”

Luna shakes her head. “No, I should have been able to contribute more to the fight. I need to practice more.”

“I suppose we weren’t really expecting to be going into a war zone or anything,” I say. “What were the Black Spiral Dancers doing there? And how long had they been there? You don’t have to come along into danger, you know, Luna. You’re the youngest of us. You can get all the time you need to practice.”

“The only thing I regret is not being able to have joined up with you sooner,” Luna says. “I don’t want to be left behind.”

“Not even if it gets you hurt?” I ask.

“Not even then,” Luna says.

Shortly, Suzy emerges and looks over at us. “I’m very busy. What do you need?”

I stand. “We ran across a cave full of Black Spiral Dancers in a park near here.”

Suzy groans. “Are you certain?”

“The place stank of the Dark Side and they definitely _look_ like Black Spiral Dancers.”

“Right, what in the Abyss are the Black Spiral Dancers doing in Massachusetts?” Suzy groans. “Jez’kai’s planning something, he’s got to be. But if he means to attack this school, he’s going to be sorely disappointed if he expected a soft target. Did they detect you?”

“They killed us,” I say. “So, yes and no. The ones in _this_ timeline won’t know we discovered them.”

“They killed you?” Suzy asks, then snorts softly. “You and your Time Magic weirdness. That’s exactly the sort of thing I was talking about. ‘Normal’ people don’t have to deal with dying regularly.”

“No, they just die and stay dead,” I say bitterly. “if I could, I’d make sure nobody had to die ever again.”

“Right, good luck with that,” Suzy says. “My point was –” She softens a little as she looks to Luna “You haven’t gone down this path very far yourself yet, but with each step, with each death, you set yourself apart from other witches.”

“I was already apart from them,” Luna says.

“Suzcecoz,” I say firmly. “Enough. For someone who is about as far from the mindset of ‘normal people’ as anyone, you’ve spent a lot of time telling us how we’re not ‘normal people’ either. You’ve _especially_ taken this to rail upon my friends, who have done nothing but choose to associate themselves with me.”

Suzy snorts softly, and opens her mouth to say something, but I don’t let her get a word in edgewise.

“For all you talk of normal people this and that, there _aren’t_ any ‘normal people’, when it boils down to it,” I say. “There’s just people. Different people who think different things, who believe different things, who experience different things. Some Muggle in London would think that the wizards there are mad. That same Muggle would probably think the American Muggles are mad, too. Everyone has a different perspective of the world. But who can say whose perspective is right or wrong?”

“Stormseeker,” Suzy begins.

“You’ve seen madness and destruction in your time,” I go on. “I get that. You saw a group of dimension traveling wizards whose ideals had degenerated and organization had become corrupted. You saw people who had taken immortality and abused and misused it, and used it to set themselves up as gods for the sake of tormenting the mere mortals and aggrandizing themselves. Am I right?”

“Yes,” Suzy says quietly.

“But listen to me, Suzcecoz. I’m _not_ Jez’kai. And I’m not one of the Elkandu you remember, either. My counterpart in that timeline became a useless drunk and did little to contribute meaningfully to the outcome of events, I don’t think. Correct me if I’m mistaken.”

“Accidentally flooding my castle with beer wasn’t really a meaningful contribution, no,” Suzy agrees wryly, folding her arms across her chest. “What’s your point?”

“You seem to think all immortals, all dimension travelers, are liable to go down the same course you saw the Elkandu go,” I say.

“I saw it happen, time and again, sometimes with groups who hadn’t even had contact with one another,” Suzy says. “What reason have I to think your group will be any different?”

“Don’t hate people for things they have yet to do and crimes they have yet to commit,” I say. “Nothing is inevitable.”

“Suzcecoz,” Luna puts in quietly. “I don’t want to be like other witches. But I _am_ more concerned about the Black Spiral Dancers than of being ‘weird’.”

“Did you really understand what you were getting into when you agreed to join a Soul Bond with him?” Suzy asks.

Luna’s eyes fix on Suzy. “I understood that I would never be able to understand if I didn’t.” She pauses. “What’s wrong with your aura?”

“ _You_ can read my aura?” Suzy asks. “One if you was an inborn Seeker I guess.”

“I am the Seeker.” Luna cocks her head. “I can’t even sense your title. I can normally pin people with a title.”

Suzy lets out a ragged sigh. “Right, I would have explained or lowered my defenses a little at our first class. Force of habit, really, and a good habit, in my opinion, that once you learn various magical defenses and are capable of keeping them up all the time, you do so.” She closes her eyes for a moment and focuses. “There. Look all you like, Seeker.”

Luna looks right through Suzy. “Gold Star, your aura is beautiful. Why do you hide it?”

Suzy sinks down into her chair and sighs, stares at Luna for a long moment, before admitting, “I don’t remember anymore.”


	4. City of the Moon

After a brief discussion via linked journal, Luna, Gellert, and I meet up with Remus for a trip to Selenis.

“I’m guessing Tom and Sirius are too ‘busy’ to join us?” Gellert asks as we head out for the car.

“It’s not like that,” Remus says with a chuckle. “Tom wants to continue studying the Peverell scrolls.”

“Uh-huh, sure he does,” Gellert says. “I get the front seat!” He hops toward the car.

“Other side, Ducky,” Remus reminds him.

“How far is it to Selenis from here?” I ask, climbing into the back with Luna.

“It’s an hour’s drive to the resort, and another two hours from there to Selenis,” Remus says.

“Why don’t we just Apparate, or take a Portkey?” I wonder.

“All of Selenis is under an Anti-Apparition Charm,” Remus explains. “If we did, we’d have to come in quite a ways from town, and obtain a means of getting around from there. I could have Apparated us to the resort and back, but it seems simplest just to use the car the whole way.”

“Will we stay in Selenis overnight, then?” I ask.

“Either that or camp nearby,” Remus says. “You bought the tent, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. “We’ll see how things go, then.”

“So, have you learned anything from Professor Lawson yet?” Remus asks.

“We’ve been to one lesson so far,” I say. “She’s trying to teach us how to ‘see’ magic. So far, Luna’s the only one who’s even close, I think.”

“I can see magic,” Luna says brightly. “She’s helping me see it better than I ever did before. Now I’m starting to understand what I’m seeing.”

“She suggested that the rest of you could drop in on one of our lessons sometime if you like, too,” I say, then smirk. “Luna’s the only one she’s actually happy with, though.”

We drive up the highway, but as we approach Selenis, Remus turns off onto a side road, and then another, before we wind up on another road that I almost would have missed if I weren’t paying attention. As if through a shimmering mirage, a city appears in front of us.

“So far as any Muggles know, this place is just an old farm,” Remus says. “If they tried to drive here, the charms on the roads would get them turned around and they’d find themselves back on the highway.”

“Bet they don’t get a lot of door-to-door salesmen,” Gellert says.

The town of Selenis is considerably larger than Hogsmeade. It didn’t spring up just to support a school. It was a significant magical city in its own right. I’m surprised by the size of it. I didn’t realize that America had such an autonomous magical community.

“It’s not just wizards who live here,” Remus says. “There’s Garou and our kinfolk, a fair amount of other shapeshifters, a smattering of vampires, a community of goblins, and quite a number of fae and various other magical beings. Wizards are practically in the minority here.”

He pulls off into what would be a very cute and quaint suburb if it weren’t for the fact that the buildings are all half normal size, and parks nearby. Large trees grow over the neighborhood, filtering the summer sun into dappled green with the occasional shaft of light.

“There you are,” Rispy says, approaching us as we get out of the car. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

“There was construction on the highway,” Remus says.

A group of tiny elf children surreptitiously pauses in their hoop game and looks over to us curiously. They’re fearless, not at all submissive, dressed in fitted and tailored garb.

“Those aren’t house-elves,” I say quietly.

Rispy grins. “Nope. Freeborn. Wild elves. Not that this is much of a slice of wilderness, in the bounds of the city.”

“Have you learned anything?” Remus asks.

Rispy nods. “They’ve been very informative. And I think I may have found Sedder.”

I pale, and tense involuntarily. “Do I have to come along for this?”

“You could have stayed back at Salem, you know,” Gellert says with a smirk. “This is what we came to do, isn’t it? What _you_ came to do.”

“Stormseeker,” Luna says softly. “Don’t worry. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

I look to the ground. “It’s times like this that I think I understand why I ever wanted to forget in the first place.”

“At some point, you have to stop running away,” Luna murmurs.

“I know,” I say quietly, letting out a heavy breath. “Rispy, tell me what you’ve learned.”

“Story time?” Rispy says, then jerks his head toward the car. “Let’s get in. I’ll explain on the way.”

“Where am I driving?” Remus asks, returning to the driver’s seat.

“East side of town,” Rispy replies. “Eclipse Nightclub.”

“Right then,” Remus says. We climb in and drive off.

“The Kitsune singer Fantasia goes there regularly,” Rispy says. “If Sedder realizes this, he’ll probably be loitering around there constantly. I’m not sure if he’s made contact yet, but nobody has seen her hanging around anyone matching his description. If she’d started dating anyone, it would have been all over the rumor mill.”

“Unless he got rebuffed, gave up, and left,” I mumble. “And if he got pissed off at getting rebuffed, what would stop him from joining forces with Jez’kai?”

“It’s possible,” Rispy says with a shrug.

“Either way, we should be prepared to fight,” I say.

“It’s a nightclub, Stormseeker,” Luna says gently. “And it’s still the middle of the afternoon. The vampires won’t be out for a while yet.”

“I can’t imagine that he wouldn’t have tried to contact her yet,” I say. “He’s probably been here for two years now.”

“I dunno, if he’s anything like the shy guys on the telly who spend an entire series hemming and hawing over trying to talk to a girl in the first place…” Gellert says.

I snort softly. “I’m pretty sure Sedder the Shadow of the Dark Elkandu is more assertive than that.”

“Didn’t you say he only hooked up with this Kitsune in the first place because he’d arranged with Jez’kai for her to be his slave?” Gellert asks.

I groan. “That was my understanding, yeah. I’m sure she’d be _very_ thrilled with him if she knew that.”

“We’ll have to see,” Remus says.

Fluorescent blue lights shine against the blue sky, depicting the stylized word ‘Eclipse’ along with a circle that’s probably supposed to represent the moon. Remus parks and we head inside. It’s still pretty quiet, as the club has just opened for the evening.

The bouncer is a werewolf casually standing around in full war form. He glances over to us disdainfully and mutters, “Bunch of teenagers in here tonight. Mind yourselves. Don’t make me care.”

“Let’s get something to eat,” Gellert says. “I’m famished.”

“I hope they have pudding,” Luna says lightly.

We take seats in the restaurant area and order food and beverages, taking our time while trying not to look like we’re taking our time. We’re here for business, not pleasure. Mostly not pleasure. Luna appears to be quite enjoying her pudding, having foregone lunch entirely.

“You really ought to order some actual food as well,” Remus says.

“Maybe later,” Luna says. “It’s blackberry.”

“Oh yeah?” Gellert says. “I have onion rings!”

“I have this sinking feeling that I will be spending eternity with an eternal child,” Remus says with a grin.

“You love me and you know it,” Gellert replies.

I tune them out as I watch the entrance nonchalantly. Some music has started up, with a group of goblins on stage playing a motley of instruments. As the day wanes and night falls, the club attracts increasingly interesting clientele. Selenis’ cosmopolitan magical community comes out to play when the sun goes down.

Among them, one white-furred fox woman, pointed ears perked up playfully, many fluffy tails trailing out behind her. She seems to have barely bothered with clothing, relying mostly on her fur to cover herself, but for a miniskirt and crop top.

“Is that her?” I ask quietly.

“Yeah, that’s Fantasia,” Rispy replies, barely audible over the music.

“No sign of the dude?” Gellert asks.

I shake my head. “No sign of the dude.” I snort softly. “Dude.”

The Kitsune saunters across the room, drawing more than a few eyes, hips swaying and tail twitching the whole way. She stops to get a drink, and then heads over to take a seat at a small table near the band. I wait for a few more minutes, casually finish up my drink, and then head over to her.

“Hello,” I say to the fox woman. “Fantasia, is it?”

“That’s me,” Fantasia says. “Looking for an autograph, kid?”

“No,” I say. “I just need to talk to you for a minute, if that’s alright.”

“Sure, I can spare a moment for a fan.” She grins, gesturing to the table

I take a seat next to her and lean down so that I can be heard over the music. “The name’s Harry. I’m not actually a fan. No offense. I’ve never heard a single thing you’ve done. I’m sure you’re splendid, though.”

“Oh?” Fantasia says, cocking her ears. “So what’s this about, then, Harry?”

“I’d ask to speak with you in private, but you’ve no reason to trust me,” I say quietly. “It’s about Jez’kai.”

Fantasia’s fur practically stands on end and her ears draw back. “Him?”

I nod. “Unfortunately. My friends and I have had a few unpleasant entanglements with him and his Black Spiral Dancers.”

“I’ll tell you what I can, but I don’t know what I can do to help,” Fantasia says. “He’s not very foxy, and he never stays down for long. Keeps turning up again like a bad penny. You really ought to get an adult to deal with it, though. If they can.”

“I’m older than I look,” I explain.

“Oh, one of _those_ sorts,” Fantasia says. “Okay.”

“He attacked my school last year,” I say. “He _died_ , I saw him die, but then he showed up in London again, like nothing happened.”

“Are you sure he really died?” Fantasia asks.

“Absolutely,” I say. “Falk shot him up with silver, and my friend decapitated him in front of me. That kills most things. What in the Void _is_ he that decapitation doesn’t work?”

“If you’ve got Falk on the case, I don’t see what you need me for,” Fantasia says. “He knows more about the business, and he’s _way_ better in a fight than me.”

“I’m not actually looking into Jez’kai specifically right now,” I say. “I’m looking for a man that may have once worked with him. Have you encountered a man who calls himself Sedder the Shadow?”

Fantasia snorts in faint amusement. “That sounds like the sort of ridiculous title someone who hangs around here would call themselves, but no, I haven’t heard that particular name come up. Who is he, Harry?”

“Maybe he’s calling himself something else,” I say. “I have reason to believe he is or was looking for you. Mind you, that was two years ago now. He’s a half-elf wizard, specializes in shadow and illusion magic.”

“That sort of magic _is_ very foxy,” Fantasia says. “Hmm, two years ago… Actually, you don’t happen to have a pic of him, do you?”

“That might help,” I say. “Or it might not. Illusionist, after all.”

“Right, yeah,” Fantasia muses. “Hmm.”

“Wait,” I say, remembering something. “Tennar Deller. His birth name is Tennar Deller.”

“Yes!” Fantasia holds up a finger. “Him! He’s been hanging around, trying to flirt sometimes, but he’s really bad at it and he always seems so crushed when I turn him down every time. He’s cute, though, and funny, but… weird and creepy. You’re telling me he’s connected to Jez’kai, Harry? Is he spying on me? I’m not exactly very secretive, unless I’m pulling a prank or something.”

“Gods, it’s complicated,” I say. “I don’t know all the details. Just be careful, alright? Do you know where I might be able to find him?”

Fantasia nods. “He started up a small company that makes video games. He keeps trying to show me the things he’s made, but they’re really dark and gory. It’s called Shadowlight Studios. You’ll have to look them up.”

“Thank you _so_ much,” I say.

“And Harry,” Fantasia says. “Be careful if you go looking for him. Especially if you think he’s connected to Jez’kai, but even if he’s not. I get a bad vibe about him. He’s hiding things.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I have no doubt of that.”

I return to my table and take a seat. Luna and Gellert have gone in for more junk food, while Remus is nursing a glass of a violent green fizzy drink.

“Drinking, Moony?” I ask. “I’m not sure I want to ride with you if you’re tipsy.”

“It’s not alcoholic,” Remus says. “Caffeinated, though. I’m definitely wide awake.”

“Did you find out anything?” Gellert asks.

I nod, and relay the information Fantasia gave me. I don’t know where we might be able to find Shadowlight Studios, but if it’s a public company, it shouldn’t be difficult. It’s the best lead we’ve gotten so far.

We decide to set up camp just outside the wild elf village, within the bounds of the charms protecting the city. Come morning, we see about trying to find Sedder’s gaming operation. That turns out to be easier said than done, though.

“Let’s ask the Glass Walkers,” I finally say. “If he’s producing anything worth playing, they’ve probably run across it.”

Remus nods. “Good idea. Jackpot gave me the location of a Glass Walker headquarters in Selenis. Let’s check there.”

The local Glass Walkers proceed to inform us that Shadowlight Studios is an indie game studio that probably doesn’t even have an actual studio and is likely to just be run out of the dude’s basement. After some checking, however, they are, at least, able to give us an address.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” I say. “All we have to do now is kidnap and interrogate him and force him to tell us everything he knows.”

“Is that really necessary?” Luna asks. “It didn’t sound like he was hostile, from the last time you spoke to him.”

“Maybe not,” I say. “I’m not going to give him the advantage by walking into his lair and speaking to him on equal ground, though. Who knows what sort of defenses he has set up there?”

“Let’s case the place and see what sort of wards he has in place,” Gellert says.

We find the place after a spending a few hours searching, a nondescript building at the edge of what looks like the local equivalent of Knockturn Alley, tucked so far back in that we almost didn’t see and would have missed it entirely if it weren’t for Luna’s eye. We park on a nearby street.

“I’m not picking up any sort of wards,” Gellert says.

Looking in that direction with the magic sight Suzy has been trying to teach us reveals nothing to me, not that that’s saying much, but Luna shakes her head as well.

“Maybe he hasn’t put up any wards,” Remus suggests.

I shake my head. “Not a chance. He’s an Elkandu. And a Dark Elkandu at that. He’s got to be more paranoid than that.”

“As you say,” Remus says.

“Always better to overestimate your opponent than to underestimate them,” Gellert says.

“True,” Remus admits.

I close my eyes and let out a deep breath, and reach out with the Force. I’m unwilling to believe that Sedder has no defenses beyond the house simply being hard to find. Well, it’s possible I suppose, but if he did that much, who’s to say he didn’t do more?

Something definitely feels a little off about the area around Sedder’s house. While we didn’t pick up anything with our normal magic checks, I realize it’s because there isn’t anything to pick up. The whole area is a blank, a dark spot, like a shadow in the Force. I can’t sense anything in there.

“He’s shrouding the area somehow,” I say. “There probably _are_ defenses, but we wouldn’t be able to detect them.” I groan. “Of course. He’s an illusionist.”

“Why don’t we just invite him out, then?” Luna asks. “Send him a letter asking him to meet us somewhere.”

“Good plan,” I say. “We could put it under the guise of something about his game company, maybe. Looking for a job or something, I don’t know.”

After some consideration, we send him a letter via owl post asking him to meet us in the cafe that happens to be run by the Glass Walkers, looking into video game programming opportunities. We settle into our tent for the night, figuring it might take a few days to arrange things, but around midnight a raven shows up to drop off a reply. Sedder writes that he isn’t busy and agrees to meet us at the cafe tomorrow.

“I wonder what it says about his booming game business that he’s willing and able to drop everything to meet someone on short notice about it,” I comment.

Come morning, we head to the coffee house, and I let the Glass Walkers know what we’ll be dealing with. They nod, and subtly up security. If Sedder doesn’t cause any trouble, he won’t find any, but if he does, he’ll get werewolves on his arse. We’ve arranged it so that it will seem like Sedder is here to meet up with Remus, who he doesn’t know, while the rest of us sit at another table drinking cocoa. I’m a little nervous about leaving my back to the door, but he’d recognize me the minute he sees my eyes, and I have faith in my friends and my tribe.

Around eleven AM, the bell on the door rings and a shadow crosses my table as someone comes in.

“Remus Lupin?” Sedder says. I recognize his voice in an instant.

“That’s me,” Remus says. “You would be Tennar Deller?”

Sedder takes a seat. “I didn’t expect a werewolf would be that interested in video games.”

“Well, I’m a Bone Gnawer, and I spend a lot of time around Glass Walkers,” Remus says.

“I guess it stands to reason, then,” Sedder says. “So you’re a programmer?”

“No, but my friend is,” Remus says.

I stand, turn around, and approach the table.

“Stormseeker,” Sedder says quietly.

“Sedder,” I say.

“Tennar,” Sedder says, tensing a little. “I’m calling myself Tennar Deller these days.”

“Sedder,” I repeat.

Sedder shrugs. “Fine. Call me what you like. _You’re_ a programmer? Did you actually want to work with me, or were you just contriving a way to speak with me?”

I snicker softly. “The latter, at the moment, but possibly the former.”

“Look, before you ask, no, I am _not_ working with Jez’kai,” Sedder says. “I’ve tried to stay the hell away from him.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” I say. “Yet, at least. I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“Questions,” Sedder says. “Alright. Fine. Tell you what. You buy me a coffee, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

I chuckle. “Deal.”

The five of us relocate to a larger table and get new drinks. Sedder seems to have relaxed a little with the assurance that we’re not immediately out to hurt him or anything, and he doesn’t seem hostile to us, either. The Glass Walkers are still on watch in the background, though, just in case things take a sudden turn for the worst.

“So who’re your friends, Stormseeker?” Sedder asks.

“Sedder, meet Phoenix and Luna,” I say, gesturing to them.

“Hello, Shadow,” Luna says. “You’ve done an excellent job masking your aura.”

Sedder chuckles. “Thanks, I think. What did he tell you?”

“Oh, a lot of things,” Luna says. “But I can see plenty for myself.”

“Inborn Seeker?” Sedder asks, and at her nod, he looks aside to me. “Smart on you to bring a Seeker with you.”

“I assure you, her being a Seeker had nothing to do with why I brought her along,” I say.

“Ah,” Sedder says. “Girlfriend, then?”

I snort softly. “No. Phoenix here is my _boyfriend_.”

“Oh,” Sedder says. “Good on you, then. Stick to boys. They’re less complicated. All the relationship problems I ever had were because of women. None of the men I was ever with were a problem.”

“Men can be problematic, too,” Gellert says with a sour look. “Did you ever have an ex try to kill you?”

“I had one _actually_ kill me,” Sedder says. “But it’s just as well he did. I’d gotten hit with a magical backlash and had very nearly lost my mind. If he hadn’t killed me, I might not have been able to recover upon rebirth.”

Gellert snickers. “I’m starting to see Suzy’s point about immortal dimension travelers casually discussing their own deaths.”

“You’ve been in contact with Suzcecoz?” Sedder asks.

“She runs a school in Salem,” I say. “She’s not exactly hiding.”

“She’s been giving us summer classes on aura reading,” Luna says.

“Huh, you could certainly do worse.” Sedder takes a drink of his coffee. “So, what did you bring me out here to talk to me about?”

“I’m looking for a Nexus,” I say.

“Ah,” Sedder says. “Right. And Torn Elkandu has been shut down.”

“Exactly,” I say. “Which leaves me with Drakanna and Calarey.”

“Yeah,” Sedder says. “There’s some others, but none you can easily get to from Earth. You’d need a Nexus to get _to_ them, probably.”

“So, how do I get to Drakanna from here?” I ask.

“You can’t,” Sedder says.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” I wonder. “Didn’t the Drakandu have a headquarters here?”

“Had,” Sedder says. “I shut down Drakanna. Turned off the Nexus. Destroyed the ethereal gateway leading to it.”

“Damn,” I say.

“If you can find a way to get to it anyway, you’re welcome to it,” Sedder says with a shrug. “But seeing as it’s in the middle of the Tempest, you’d probably be better off looking for Calarey.”

“Do you know where Calarey is?” I ask.

“Nope,” Sedder says. “The Kalkandu were our enemies, and their headquarters was well-hidden. I can’t even guarantee you that they evacuated the place or are inactive now. I haven’t seen any signs of their activity lately, but they might still be together. I don’t see any reason that they would have disbanded just because the other two Elkandu factions did.”

“Hmm,” I hmm. “And you haven’t seen any members of these Kalkandu around, either?”

Sedder shakes his head. “I can give you some names. That’s the best I can do.”

“I guess it’ll have to do,” I say.

Sedder pulls out a pen from nowhere and scribbles on a napkin, and passes it over to me. At this point I have to wonder how useful these names are actually going to be, with names like ‘Silver the Great of the House of Renneck’, but then I spot the name of my grandmother on the list, Keliole Chelseer.

“So,” Gellert says. “You’re really _not_ a dark wizard who is working with the Black Spiral Dancers and tortures children for fun?”

Sedder snorts softly. “Dark wizard, yes. Black Spiral Dancers? Fuck no. Torturing children? Does releasing violent video games count? Otherwise, no.”

“You killed my cousins in an alternate universe,” I say bitterly.

“I have no memory of this,” Sedder says. “You have to understand something. After I died, I was reborn as a half-drow named Lomolen Shadowhand. As Lomolen I was… honorable and loyal to a fault. It got me in quite a bit of trouble. I didn’t actually remember _anything_ of my previous life until a telepath knocked around in my head. Maybe it would have been best if he hadn’t. I don’t know.”

“I’d generally think it’s better to remember than not,” I say. “I’d also hope I’m still more or less me even when I haven’t remembered everything.”

“Your memories affect who you are a good deal,” Sedder says. “They shape you with experience. If you were to forget everything, there’s no telling who you could become. Unless there were some underlying pattern, you’d effectively be a blank slate.”

“I don’t know,” I say, frowning. It’s not a pleasant thought. Either way, I’ve vowed never to let that happen to me again.

“Your soul is always the same, though,” Luna says.

“The part of me that was Lomolen refused to surrender and integrate even when my memories were restored,” Sedder says. “I was a mess. The telepath did me no favors. Not the way he did it. Not intending on putting my past self’s personality in control. Guy was kind of a bastard. Anyway, point being, not only am I not the Sedder you encountered in your timeline, but I’m not the Sedder who was originally in the alpha timeline, either.”

“That’s got to get confusing,” Gellert says. “It’s confusing just listening to it.”

“The Sedder I knew was more than kind of a bastard,” I say. “I almost didn’t want to meet with you because of it.”

“Yeah, well,” Sedder says. “Forget that dick, then.”

“You might want to go easy on Fantasia, though,” I say.

“You spoke to Fantasia?” Sedder raises an eyebrow.

“She thinks you’re creepy,” I say.

Sedder groans. “I was afraid of that. Thanks. I guess I’ll lay off her. I’m really bad at this.” He snorts softly. “Look at me, the stereotypical geek who lives in a basement and can’t get a girl to save his life.”

“Don’t give up on love, Shadow,” Luna says. “Sometimes happiness can come where you least expect it.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re probably right on that,” Sedder says.

“Another thing,” I say. “Do you know the method of Jez’kai’s immortality?”

“No.” Sedder shakes his head. “I assume, if you’re asking me, that you already asked Suzy, and she didn’t know either?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Do you suppose it’s a Horcrux, or something weirder?”

“A what?”

“An object that holds a piece of someone’s soul,” Gellert says.

Sedder frowns. “I don’t know. It’s possible. Could be ‘something weirder’, though. I could think of a dozen ways off the top of my head to achieve immortality or apparent immortality.”

Gellert snickers. “I’m sure our friend Tom would be utterly thrilled to know that immortality is so easy.”

“Oh, I’m just talking about coming back from the dead,” Sedder says. “It’s generally better to not die in the first place, I find, which has a whole other slew of ways to avoid. Time, Healing, or Changing can hold off the effects of old age, for instance.”

“Okay, so how can one come back from the dead?” I ask. “Because I’ve definitely seen him die.”

“I need another coffee if I’m going to divulge the secrets of life and death,” Sedder says wryly.

We go in for another round of drinks, and add a few doughnuts as well.

“Alright,” Sedder says, taking a sip of his mocha. “Horcruxes. That’s Soul Magic. Using an object to anchor yourself to the material world to prevent your soul from crossing over the Veil. Right?”

Gellert nods. “Yeah, something like that. Kind of like forcibly becoming a wraith by creating an artificial fetter, I think. Not really my first choice of immortality methods.”

“Agreed,” Sedder says. “A powerful enough Soul Mage doesn’t _need_ a fetter to become a wraith upon death, as Suzy could have told you. And if one were going to use that method, going the full route and becoming a lich seems more practical, unless you had a serious aversion to being undead and thought you could possess a new body in short order after dying.”

“There are other methods, though?”

“Of course,” Sedder says. “No matter what it is, there’s probably at least a dozen ways to do it. It’s just a matter of figuring out what they are. Sometimes it takes a bit of thinking outside the box, though, so to speak.”

“This I have to hear,” Gellert says.

“People are reborn when they die,” Sedder says. “That process is automatic and happens regardless of anything anyone does unless it’s interrupted in some way. Usually, though, they’re reborn without memories, only their soul passing along, effectively becoming a blank slate in a newborn body. Telepaths are sometimes able to remember their past lives on their own from early on. There are also, as I mentioned, techniques that a telepath can use to recover someone else’s past life memories.”

“Is Jez’kai a telepath?” I wonder.

“Not that I know of,” Sedder says. “That doesn’t preclude that he has the help of one, though. People can also, for instance, store a copy of their memories in an object and make sure that they will be able to come into contact with this object by enchanting it to seek out and respond to their magical signature. This was the method that the telepath who fucked with my mind used to recover from his own untimely death.”

“I don’t know what he was doing in the interim,” I say. “All I know was that I saw a body with its head cut off, and a few months later I saw him alive and well in another city.”

“Hmm,” Sedder says. “If it was only a few months, that probably cuts out relying on natural rebirth to spin him out again.”

“It’s still a clever trick,” Gellert says. “I’d have to keep that in mind, if I weren’t soulbound to a Time Mage, making it a moot point anyway.”

“I hope you guys know what you’re doing with that sort of magic, but it’s not for me to judge,” Sedder says with a shrug. “I’ve done stupider things in my lifetimes.”

“What else might be letting Jez’kai come back from the dead so easily and casually?” I ask.

“Since you said you decapitated his body and I assume you checked that he didn’t just repair and reuse that, he either possessed another body, or rebuilt one,” Sedder says. “But regardless of the method of getting a new body, the tricky part is avoiding crossing over until you can do so.”

“Yeah…” I say, frowning.

Sedder takes a bite of a doughnut thoughtfully. “You know, the weirdest case of immortality I’ve seen was a woman by the name of Tarna Tanson. She wasn’t a Soul Mage at all, and although she was a skilled Mind Mage, she didn’t fall back on rebirth and memory restoration.”

“What was so weird about it?” Gellert wonders.

“Funny story, that,” Sedder says. “Well, probably not funny if you were Tarna. She pissed off Sardill, you see. To hear her tell, it was something ridiculous like spilling his beer. Sardill cursed her with immortality.”

“How is that a curse?” I wonder.

“It was coupled with a curse of bad luck,” Sedder goes on. “Every time she died, she’d immediately respawn somewhere else. But because of the bad luck curse, she’d invariably wind up in terrible situations that led to her dying again in short order.”

I scowl. “That sounds a lot like what he did to me.”

“It’s not really what I’d call a ‘method’ of immortality,” Sedder says. “Sardill is nothing if not unpredictable, and divine intervention is hardly a reliable means of avoiding death. But weird things like that happen, and you can’t always take them into account. Saying something is impossible just because you can’t think of a way to do it is a cop-out even when there _aren’t_ divine or near-divine entities involved.”

“ _Could_ Jez’kai be cursed like that?” I wonder.

“It’s possible,” Sedder says. “But if he is, there’s not a damned thing you or I could do about it. It’d take a god to reverse that sort of spell.”

“You’ve given us a lot of information and all you’ve asked for is some coffee and doughnuts,” Gellert says.

“The Stormseeker saved me from a fate worse than death,” Sedder says.

“Jez’kai?” Gellert asks.

“Worse,” Sedder says, making a face. “My mother-in-law.”


	5. Summer School

“What I really want to know is, how do Muggles fail to notice that they’re missing a piece of coastline?” I wonder.

We’re on the road again, driving away from Selenis as the landscape warps behind us to give no impression that there’s a strange, magical city hiding there.

“Same way they don’t notice Diagon Alley or Platform 9 ¾,” Remus says.

“Muggles often don’t notice things,” Luna says.

“It’s not really fair bringing non-Euclidean geometry into it, though,” I say. “You turn off the highway to drive _inland_ , but the city is on the coast _._ I _saw_ a docks district there. I mean, what in the Void is up with that? _”_

“Magic,” Remus says vaguely.

“You’d think there were a better way to hide a city,” I mumble. “Wizards use magic in weird ways sometimes.”

“Yep, isn’t it grand?” Gellert says.

After a while, I say, “Luna. I think I owe you an apology.”

“What for?” Luna asks, looking away from her view of the window.

“You were right about Sedder,” I explain.

“It wasn’t unwise to be cautious,” Luna says. “And you did eventually speak to him and give him a chance to explain himself.”

I grunt. “Yeah, for whatever good it did.”

“We did find out a lot,” Gellert says. “We know we can stop looking for a way into Drakanna from this side. And we’ve got a list of names.”

“And we still don’t know how to stop Jez’kai,” I say.

“I’ll take those names and see what I can do,” Remus says. “Maybe we can find one of them.”

“My grandmother and great-grandfather were among the names,” I say. “At least if we can find them, I know _they’d_ probably talk to me.”

“Probably?” Gellert says with a smirk.

“Don’t underestimate family, Stormseeker,” Luna says.

“The Marauders are my family,” I declare.

“Are these relatives of Lily Evans, or of Lexen Chelseer?” Remus asks. “Alternate universes are confusing sometimes.”

“The latter,” I say. “I think. I’m not ruling out the former, though.”

“It’s good to know that _you’re_ confused by alternate universes too,” Remus says with a chuckle.

“Hey, I didn’t expect any of them to be here at all,” I say. “At least not in a form where they remembered anything of the future or other universes. This was supposed to be a different universe.”

“You always say expectations are dangerous,” Gellert says with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say.

“There’s another bright spot in that encounter,” Remus says. “If what he says is accurate, we don’t need to worry about Jez’kai finding the gateway to Drakanna.”

“This is true,” I say. “I won’t rule out him finding another way in, like that one in the Ministry of Magic. And Jez’kai knew about the Nexus to look for it. Sedder denied working with him, but how did Jez’kai find out, then?”

“There are other Elkandu in this world,” Luna says.

I sigh. “Yeah. Any one of them could have told him. Any of them could have joined forces with him.”

“I’ll keep an ear to the ground,” Remus says.

“Fuck, at this point, I’m kind of wishing it weren’t summer and I had more classes to keep me occupied,” I say.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t have been a Ravenclaw?” Remus says.

“I could’ve been.” I shrug. “After expelling myself, I kind of missed school.”

“We could teach each other,” Luna says. “Well. I don’t have much to teach, but each of us knows different things.”

“This is also true,” I say.

“Did you ever fancy yourself a teacher?” Luna asks.

I chuckle. “I know a lot, and have forgotten most of it. That didn’t stop me from opening a Jedi school. Mind you, I never actually had a chance to teach there. I left that timeline shortly after founding it.”

“You can teach us about the Force, though!” Gellert says.

I snort softly. “I’m good with a lightsaber. I was never very good with the Force, but I can try.”

“Do, or do not…” Gellert begins.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “I’ll teach you what I can. Maybe it’ll jostle some stuff loose, too.”

“Hermione will be thrilled,” Luna says.

It’s late when we finally arrive back at school, thanks to no less than four construction areas on the highway. That’s making me reconsider my aversion to flying, but it’s alright. I wasn’t in any particular hurry to be anywhere at the moment.

We settle into a routine of trading off who is teaching who. It’s mostly me, Luna, and Hermione who need the most learning, but I don’t slouch off in pushing them in fencing and Force powers. The fact that it’s basically wandless magic, even if it’s a very simple form of it, will probably prove very helpful, especially if it can give us a foot up in learning to use other magic wandlessly.

Being at an actual school doesn’t hurt, either. We’ve got access to the school’s laboratories, workshops, and equipment, and Suzy doesn’t give a fuck what we do with it so long as we keep it neat and clean. I might be useless at Potions, but Hermione and Luna are glad for the opportunity to keep up with that.

“You seem to know a good bit about Potions, Brax,” I say. “Why didn’t you ever consider teaching at Hogwarts? Snape’s awesome and all, but he seems to hate children.”

“As disagreeable as he might be around the young, he does possess quite a bit more skill than I,” Abraxas says. “I am no Potions Master. While I did well enough on my OWL test, I never took it to NEWT level.”

“You could have taught the younger years and left Professor Snape to teach the older students, though,” Luna says.

Abraxas shrugs. “I never really thought about it. And it’s different teaching two people rather than a full class. Revan, do you intend to at least try?”

“Why bother?” I say.

Abraxas snorts in annoyance. “It’s that sort of attitude that has probably kept you from learning the slightest thing about potion-making in the first place. And probably a great many other things.”

I groan. “Fine, but you’ll regret it.”

“Let me worry about my own regrets,”Abraxas says. “Go grab a cauldron.”

I glumly wind up sitting through our little Potions classes, feeling like I’m accomplishing nothing more than wasting perfectly good ingredients.

Cassie is heading our makeshift Charms lessons. Although she admits she’s not much of a teacher, she does know what she’s talking about, and even Abraxas picks up some pointers in the process. She puts forth useful and practical charms, for the most part. Given that we don’t know how much time the world is going to give us for training, prioritization is good.

“ _Accio_ Quaffle,” I cast. The ball obligingly flies toward me, straight past me, and hits the wall behind me.

“How are you so bad at that?” Gellert wonders.

“Just need practice, I guess,” I say with a shrug. “I was never very good at Force telekinesis, either. _Accio Hogwarts, A History_.” The large book flops to the ground beside me.

“Hmm,” Hermione says, watching me. She, at least, got the spell right on her first try. “Let me see you try that again a few more times.”

Luna tosses colored juggling balls up into the air, and I _Accio_ them over one by one, and all of them sail wide and fly past me.

“They always go too far left,” Hermione says. “Harry, you’re left-handed. Maybe you just need to compensate for that.”

“That… is a very good point,” I say.

I practice some more. We try to figure out ways to compensate for that, and I think my aim is improving.

“Surely I can’t be the only left-handed wizard in history,” I grumble.

“Historically, most families usually killed left-handed children,” Gellert says cheerfully.

“That’s horrible!” Hermione says.

“They say the left hand wields dark magic,” Gellert says.

“Superstitious nonsense,” Hermione scoffs.

“The one left-handed wizard you know is a self-proclaimed Dark Lord,” Abraxas points out.

“That’s a very small sample size,” Hermione retorts. “And I wasn’t really paying attention to whether any of my other classmates were left-handed. Oh, bother, if I were back at Hogwarts I could do a survey and collect data.”

“Just use a Pensieve,” I say.

“Oh, yeah, I could do that, couldn’t I,” Hermione muses.

“Did you want to call it quits on the lesson for now?” Cassie asks.

“You know, we’ve covering a lot of practical spells and not a lot of theory,” Hermione says. “Professor Flitwick would have had us spend a month writing essays on the magical theory of the Summoning Charm before giving us a chance to practice it.”

Cassie snorts softly. “We have all of eternity to study magical theory. I spent my entire life studying magical theory. You want to know what I learned?”

Hermione looks at her with wide eyes as though she’s about to divulge the secret of life.

“It’s not actually as important as you think it is,” Cassie says.

“You can’t be serious!” Hermione exclaims.

“If you want to take a few decades off to study magical theory, by all means don’t let me dissuade you,” Cassie says. “Right now, though, Black Spiral Dancers and whatever else liable to kill us in the near future if we’re not prepared, we need to know _how_ to cast a Summoning Charm more than how it works.”

Hermione deflates. “I see your point. But it still seems sort of backward.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Cassie says. “It _can_ help to know why a spell does what it does. But I think you and Luna have enough grounding already to build on. And Harry, well, forgot everything and is mostly relearning what he already knew.”

“But then, according to Falk, all magical theory is bunk anyway,” Hermione says. “He claims magic only works because you believe in it. But that makes no sense…”

“Why doesn’t it?” Luna wonders.

“Things don’t just work or fail to work because of _belief_ ,” Hermione insists.

“Are you sure?” Luna asks.

“I mean, science doesn’t stop working if you don’t believe in it,” Hermione says.

“Well, even if you didn’t believe in it, plenty of other people would,” Luna says. “Their beliefs are just as valid as yours.”

“And I could successfully cast a spell even if I’m not sure what it does, if I have the words and wand movements right!” Hermione goes on.

“You believe it will do _something_ though, right?” Luna says.

“Well, yes, but when I first learned I was a witch, I wasn’t sure even of that,” Hermione says. “It took a good deal of convincing, and then when I tried out a few simple charms and they worked, I could hardly believe they worked even though I’d just cast them.”

“But you were told you were a witch, so you believed it would happen,” Luna says.

“I’m sure Falk knows what he’s talking about,” Gellert says.

Hermione purses her lips. “I hear horror stories about previous years of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors.”

“Yeah, and that he was the most competent one to show up in decades,” Gellert says.

“They tended to meet unfortunate ends,” Abraxas says.

“Bet you we narrowly avoided an alternate universe in which Falk wound up dead or maimed during the fight in the Department of Mysteries,” Gellert says.

“I almost called him in,” I say. “We were fighting underground, after all, so the sunlight wouldn’t have been a problem.”

“Why didn’t you?” Gellert asks. “He might have been good to have on hand.”

“I’m not really sure,” I say.

“Yes, you were willing to call _us_ into danger, but not the one who had dedicated his life to fighting dark creatures,” Abraxas says dryly.

“Maybe the streak of misfortune on that position is over,” Luna says lightly.

“So, you guys are telling me that if enough people stopped believing in gravity, it would stop working?” Hermione wonders.

“You did well enough in his classes,” I point out. “You gave the answers and followed what he was saying.”

“Yes, but you don’t argue with teachers,” Hermione replies.

“You’re arguing with your teachers right now,” I say.

“That’s different,” Hermione says. “They’re my friends.”

“Nothing wrong with questioning and discussing things, though,” I say. “You could have questioned Falk more.”

“I’m not sure what to believe anymore,” Hermione grumbles.

“Believe everything,” Luna says.

* * *

Suddenly, the world wrenches, and I find myself back in my bed in the dorm room. I head out to the common area as the others wake up and file out.

“Was that Tom, Sirius, and Remus?” Cassie asks, frowning.

“Or Rispy,” I say. “Must’ve gotten into a fight or something.”

“Hermione, belief matters more in the world than you might expect,” Gellert says.

“But there has to be some underlying principles to the way the universe works,” Hermione insists.

“Hold up,” Abraxas says. “We just died, went back in time, our companions may be in danger, and we are continuing this discussion as if nothing happened?”

“Yep,” I say offhandedly. “I have faith in them. If they need help, they’ll notify us. If we keep resetting, we can look into it.” I turn to Hermione. “If there is some universal law to reality, I don’t know what it is.”

“All knowledge is local,” Luna says. “What is known as truth changes from place to place and time to time.”

“But truth is truth,” Hermione says. “That’s the point of it. It doesn’t change.”

“Perspectives change, though,” Luna says.

“You know, all this talk about belief makes me wonder,” I muse. “If we were to, say, visit the _Star Wars_ universe, would our wands even work?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Hermione asks.

“You’ve seen all the movies and read all the books, haven’t you?” I say, and she nods. “Did you ever see anyone using the Force anything like how wizards here use magic?”

Hermione works up her face. “No, not really.”

“If we went outside into a Muggle city, somewhere that isn’t covered by Obliviators, we’d run into disbelief and Paradox,” Gellert says. “I had to be careful during my campaign of world domination for the Greater Good. There’s no crack teams of Obliviators in continental Europe. Even though I wanted to bring down the Statute of Secrecy, I didn’t want to get hit by a Paradox backlash. I stuck to coincidental magic around Muggles, things that could plausibly have happened naturally, rather than vulgar magic, really obvious displays of power. Of course, I tended to shift off the backlash onto someone else when I could, too.”

“And now we are casually discussing world domination,” Abraxas says with a smirk. “We are all insane.”

“I’m glad you include yourself in that number,” I say.

“I am here, am I not?” Abraxas says. “I, too, am a Marauder now.”

“We can use whatever sort of magic we like in wizarding Britain and places like Selenis,” Gellert says. “People there are already very open and accepting of that sort of weirdness.”

“I had no problem with Force powers, either,” I say. “I’d imagine they aren’t that weird to wizards in this world. No real difference between them and wandless magic.”

“If you’d like to test it for yourself, Hermione, you’re welcome to go outside and try using vulgar magic in front of Muggles,” Gellert says with a wry grin. “You can see for yourself what Paradox feels like.”

“I’ll take your word on it,” Hermione says.

“You know what this may mean for dimension traveling though, don’t you?” I say. “We’re going to have to learn how they use magic wherever we wind up, and adjust. We may wind up having to relearn even basic things to get a feel for the way things work there.”

“And,” Gellert adds. “It may not be limited to just magic, either. The very laws of physics as we know them here may not apply.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Hermione says.

“You’ve read plenty of books,” Gellert says. “Plenty of fantasy novels in there, too, haven’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” Hermione says.

“And plenty of those are about weird worlds where things don’t work quite as they do in this one, right?” Gellert presses.

“That’s true,” Hermione admits.

“Now imagine all those places are real and that we can visit them,” Gellert goes on.

“I… guess for what’s in the books to be accurate, the world would have to be different from ours,” Hermione says.

“Ugh,” Cassie mumbles. “All the magical theory in the universe won’t help if the starting parameters are different.”

“But even if things world differently in different worlds, I’ll grant you the likelihood of that, I don’t see how _belief_ is in any way a factor in that,” Hermione says.

“The Rotfang Conspiracy wanted to break the wheel of the year,” Luna comments.

“The Ministry sought to suppress the old ways,” Abraxas says. “Who knows what would have happened had they succeeded?”

“Regardless, we’ll learn more once we actually travel to another world,” I say. “Do you think we might be able to learn to Apparate before classes start?”

“You should already know how,” Cassie says. “We could probably remind you. As for Luna and Hermione, normally I’d be concerned about splinching, given that it might be more dangerous for less experienced witches. But the danger is a moot point at the moment, so if you want to try to learn…”

“Of course,” Hermione says.

“Unless, of course, you’d rather spend the summer studying the tendencies of left-handed wizards,” Gellert says with a grin.

“I suppose I can put that project off for another time,” Hermione says.

We begin practicing Apparation in addition to the charms and curses we’ve been learning. If anything seems like a vital thing to know, this is it.

This, of course, results in repeated deaths by splinching and resets. Hermione is the first one to get it down, as usual, although even she had a few mishaps. She seems almost a little miffed that it didn’t work on the first try, and blames it on not having had the chance to spend enough time studying the theory of Apparation first.

Luna seems like a hopeless case at the moment. Every time she tries, she splinches herself into a dozen pieces. I wind up having to contact the other team to let them know we’re just practicing Apparation and not being eaten alive by Black Spiral Dancers. This apparently results in Sirius cheating at gambling, I’m told.

As for me… I remember having known how to Apparate. It doesn’t surprise me that I must have learned it at some point, after all. It doesn’t seem all that different from what the Garou called “stepping sideways”, just moving across the intervening space as well. I also vaguely remember Mouse having taught me about it.

After a few failed attempts that fortunately just resulted in me going nowhere instead of me dying horribly, I get it down. With a thought, I cross the field.

“Harry, that’s not how you’re supposed to do it,” Hermione protests.

I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean? It worked, didn’t it?”

“You’re supposed to pop out of existence and appear somewhere else,” Hermione says.

“Isn’t that what I did?” I ask.

“I’m… not entirely sure what you just did,” Hermione says. “But it came with a crack of lightning.”

“Close enough,” Gellert says with a shrug. “Wizards don’t always Apparate with the same sounds or effects. Some can do it silently, and others vanish into smoke or mist when they Disapparate.”

“I suppose it’ll be really obvious when I show up, then,” I say. “Good thing I’m not generally one for stealth.”

“Now I’m wishing I could appear in a burst of flames,” Gellert says. “That would be badass.”

“Personalized Apparation for everyone?” I say with a smirk.

“Nah, just us,” Gellert says. “Because we’re awesome.”

“I would generally consider it a flaw in the casting that it is not done efficiently and quietly,” Abraxas says.

“C’mon, Brax,” Gellert says. “Sometimes you have to forgo efficiently in the name of _style_.”

“I’m with Abraxas on this one,” Hermione says. “I think you just need to practice more so you can Apparate in a less flashy manner.”

Gellert mumbles, “Killjoy.”

* * *

“You lot are still here?” Suzy says, raising an eyebrow.

Autumn is fast approaching, and I feel like we’ve made great progress this summer, at least in training. We’ve still found no trace of the Kalkandu that Sedder mentioned nor clues to the location of Calarey, but at least Jez’kai hasn’t done anything too obvious and drastic in the meantime.

“Of course,” Hermione says. “We’d be remiss to lose out on such an educational opportunity.”

“Well, at least one of you cares about knowledge,” Suzy says. “What was it you call yourselves? Marauders?” She snorts softly at our nods. “Fitting enough name, that.”

“When will we get our class schedules?” Hermione asks.

“I’ll need to do a placement test for you,” Suzy says. “Due to the spotty education at Hogwarts, I’m not sure which grade you should be in. For the sake of keeping you all together and avoiding contaminating my students too much, however, I’m all putting you in the same grade. So you’re going to be placed at the level of whichever of you needs the most work. How’s that sound?”

“Works for me,” Gellert says brightly.

“That will probably be me,” Luna says, a little sheepishly.

“Don’t be too sure,” Suzy says. “As I recall, your aura reading is top notch.”

“How does the curriculum here differ from Hogwarts?” Hermione asks.

“Our core classes are Elements, Mind Arts, Enchantment, Biomancy, Arithmancy, World Studies, and Language,” Suzy explains. “Divination is a requirement for earlier grades. That’s what the aura reading I was having you learn was to catch you up on. There are also a wide array of electives available at different levels.”

“Potions isn’t a core class?” I ask.

“No, it is not,” Suzy says.

“Thank the gods,” I say.

Suzy smirks. “No, thank _me_ , I’m the one who drew up the course schedules. It’s an elective. A certain number of elective credits are required to pass a year, but you can choose which ones you want to do.”

“Are you going to make us all choose the same electives, too?” Gellert asks.

“I really ought to.” Suzy chuckles. “But no. Go ahead and pick what you like. I don’t really care so long as you don’t disrupt my classes. That includes setting off a flurry of questions about alternate universes and time travel in the middle of an unrelated class.”

“Understood,” I say. The others nod in agreement, except for Gellert, who is making no promises.

“Does your school not charge tuition?” Abraxas asks.

“It does,” Suzy says. “Except you get the Elkandu Discount.”

“What do you mean?” Abraxas wonders.

“Shopkeepers in the Elkandu realms tended to just give Elkandu whatever they wanted so that they’d go away and leave them alone,” Suzy says. “Any damages caused by annoyed Elkandu tended to be greater than the losses of a few items.”

“We’re not going to destroy your school,” Cassie assures her.

“No, but so long as you’re here, incentivized to learn, you’re not somewhere else, causing trouble,” Suzy says. “I can keep an eye on you here. Maybe even manage to instill some principles into you while I still can, so that you don’t wind up going mad when you do get out exploring the multiverse.”

“I will reconsider being here if all you’re going to do is keep insulting us all the time,” Abraxas says.

“I think you might be projecting a bit,” Gellert says.

Suzy scowls. “Let me tell you about a little spell I invented once,” she says, almost casually. “It’s called _soulfire_. It is capable of damaging or destroying someone’s very soul. Your little Time Magic scheme? It would tear your weave apart and you would die very final deaths.”

I shift uncomfortably.

“Well… yes, so far as death threats are concerned, that’s a fairly impressive one,” Gellert comments.

“Professor Lawson,” Hermione ventures hesitantly. “If you’re capable of doing something like that, why didn’t you use it on Jez’kai?”

Suzy sighs. “You think I never tried?”

“That’s also impressive in its own right,” Gellert says. “That something like that wouldn’t stop him.”

Luna says quietly, “Gold Star, we’re not the ones you should be upset at.”

Tension drains out of Suzy and her expression softens as she looks over at Luna. “Yeah. I know. I’m still bitter and resentful, I think, but I shouldn’t take it out on you. I apologize.”

There’s a long moment of awkward silence and Abraxas turns to look at Luna.

Hermione clears her throat. “What will our exams entail? And when will they take place? I’ll need to study.”

“You don’t need to study,” Suzy says. “A real exam tests what you can do, not what you can memorize.”

Hermione looks dubious at that.

Suzy straightens. “In fact, let’s do this right now, shall we?”

“Meep!” Hermione says, eyes widening practically in panic.

“Oh, do relax,” Abraxas says. “You will do fine.”

“I haven’t studied!” Hermione insists.

“You have spent the entire summer studying,” Abraxas says.

“I’m going to give each of you a magic ring,” Suzy says, fishing around in her pocket. “You will examine it and tell me what its enchantments do. Once you have told me your analysis, you may put it on to check whether you were correct or not.”

She pulls out a handful of identical brass rings and passes them out to us. I take a deep breath and try to focus on my aura sight. The bright and shiny colors Luna and Suzy describe have, for the most part, eluded me. It’s really starting to disappoint and frustrate me. I want to see the rainbow too.

“Invisibility,” Luna says. She slips the ring on and vanishes for a moment before taking it off again with a grin.

“Levitation,” Hermione says a moment later, likewise demonstrating the effect.

“Shielding,” Cassie says. A shimmering sphere surrounds her.

“Light,” Abraxas says. His ring glows brightly when he puts it on.

“Speed!” Gellert says. He puts on his ring and promptly zips around the room.

Suzy smirks. “You don’t get to keep them, sorry.”

“Aww.” Gellert comes back and sits down.

“What about you, Potter?” Suzy says.

I frown. No matter how hard I try to see the beautiful rainbow colors, my ring comes up blank. I glance aside to the others’ rings and try to read them. What an embarrassment I would be to this whole group that I can’t even do what should be so simple and basic.

Luna smiles at me dreamily. “Open your eyes.”

Maybe it really is that simple. How wonderful it would be to be able to see things from Luna’s perspective. It all really is just a matter of perspective, isn’t it? I stop struggling and trying to push it, and simply open myself to the Force.

Bright colors appear around the others’ rings. Blue, yellow, violet, cyan, pink… and yet no glorious aura surrounds my own ring. While it _does_ have an aura around it, it’s just dull gray.

“It does nothing,” I say suddenly.

Suzy just gives me a shit-eating grin.

I slide the ring onto my finger. Nothing happens. “You slipped an unenchanted ring in that batch. That test was a trick.”

Suzy ignores the ring as it lands on the ground near her with a clink. “Life isn’t always fair.”

“You lied,” I say. “You said that you were giving us _magic_ rings.”

“Oh, it’s magic,” Suzy says. She bends over and picks up the ring. “You were correct that it does nothing, though.”

“I don’t understand,” I say.

“Anyone else care to explain?” Suzy asks, holding up the ring. “Luna, Hermione?”

“It’s magic that does nothing,” Luna says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I grumble.

“The ring is full of mana but doesn’t have an enchantment on it to use it,” Hermione says.

“Mana,” I repeat.

A word I hadn’t heard in this world until Suzy began to teach us. Magical energy. Hogwarts never really differentiated it. But it’s apparently a very important concept to other groups of magic-users, notably the Elkandu. I would have just said ‘the Force’, but admittedly, terms like ‘magic’ and ‘the Force’ are a little vague.

“But sure,” Suzy says lightly. “Ring of nothing wasn’t fair.” She brings out a handful of iron rings this time and lays them out on the table in front of us. “These rings are all enchanted – and not with ‘nothing’ enchantments, I’ll promise you that this time.” She smirks. “Unlike the last batch, they don’t do anything so obvious when worn.”

“’Nothing’ wasn’t obvious,” I grumble quietly.

Suzy ignores me.

“This one protects from wrackspurts,” Luna announces.

“The hell are wrackspurts?” Suzy wonders.

“They’re invisible little creatures,” Luna says. “They flit into your head and make it go fuzzy.”

“Right…” Suzy says. “That’s a ring of mental clarity. I’ll take that answer, I guess.”

Hermione holds up her ring. “It makes you need less food.”

“This protects against poison,” Cassie says.

“This makes your curses stronger,” Gellert says.

“This one shields you from fire,” Abraxas says.

My own ring is surrounded by a deep blue or bluish-green aura, like an ocean. “Water,” I say uncertainly. No, there’s more to it than that. There’s two shades of blue there. The other is air. “Water breathing.”

“Right, good enough,” Suzy says, collecting the rings again.

I glance around the room at the others. Each of them has their own aura in a different color, and I recognize them as their individual magic effect, normally only visible when they cast certain spells.

“You didn’t mention the colors don’t go away,” I say.

“You can suppress it if you really want to, though I don’t recommend it,” Suzy says. “You open yourself to a new sense, seeing things with an extra set of eyes. You can close your eyes, but it leaves you blind.”

I suppose I can’t complain, and she does have a point. The colors are wonderful, although a little distracting. All things considered, though, it would be better to get used to it than to blind myself. This makes things so much more _clear_ and readable than simply feeling things with the Force.

“Suzy, before we go any further, I’d like to ask you a question,” I say. “Does magic really work differently in other universes?”

“Absolutely,” Suzy says. “I went on a few Explorations in my day. Seems like every world is just a little different at minimum, and wildly different at the extreme. You have to be careful. In some worlds, most magic doesn’t work at all, or you need to do strange things to get it to work. However, things like this aura reading I’ve been teaching you, as well as most mental disciplines that affect only yourself, will almost always work.”

“Good to know,” I say.

“Alright, so you guys ready for the practical test, so I can see what you actually learned at Hogwarts?” Suzy asks.

“I haven’t studied!” Hermione protests again, but goes quiet at Suzy’s look.

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Gellert says.

Suzy proceeds to have us demonstrate a variety of spells, starting with simple spells. Levitate a feather, light a candle, transfigure a needle, mend a stick, conjure smoke… and detect a mental scan.

“But we never covered any mental spells at Hogwarts,” Hermione says.

“A gross oversight on their part,” Suzy says. “Let’s see how you all do anyway.”

She scans each one of us at random, sometimes choosing the same one multiple times to throw us off guard. Gellert, Cassie, and Abraxas can all manage it reliably. As for me, it’s similar enough to Jedi mind tricks that I can sense when she brushes against my mind.

“You’re like an open book, Hermione,” Suzy says. “This is one area you’re definitely going to need to study. I’m sure you’ll pick it up quick enough, though. Blame Hogwarts curriculum for prioritizing the wrong things.”

Hermione is quite miffed about it and goes to practically sulk in the corner.

“As for you, Luna…” Suzy says, staring at her oddly. “While you couldn’t feel my magic, you do seem to have some natural defenses. I couldn’t read any useful thoughts or emotions from you. Just pudding.”

“I _am_ rather hungry at the moment,” Luna says.

Suzy chuckles. “Right. Well. I’m going to have to place you in the beginner Mind Arts course. There are quite a lot of mental disciplines that would doubtless prove useful, especially if you intend to travel to other universes.”

“Mind reading?” Hermione says. “Mind control?”

“Not just that,” Suzy says. “The most useful techniques are how to organize your mind, retain and store information better. Someone skilled at Mind Magic can’t simply control someone or wipe their memories. They can read rapidly and perfectly remember everything they read.”

“Hermione already does that,” I mumble.

“Then it shouldn’t be hard to pick up and refine,” Suzy says.

“If you don’t like us, why are you so eager to teach us?” Gellert asks. “Why go out of your way to schedule summer classes and try to sort out a curriculum for us?”

“I never said I didn’t like you,” Suzy says. “I do not have strong feelings about you at all. And why wouldn’t I?”

“It seems like a lot of effort for something that doesn’t really benefit you,” Gellert says.

“Of course it benefits me,” Suzy says. “It increases the knowledge in the world.”

Gellert stares at her. “How does that benefit you?”

“Knowledge is the highest cause someone may strive for,” Suzy says. “And knowledge should be shared.”

“Right,” Gellert says. “Ravenclaw.”

Suzy chuckles. “No points for that guess. Yes, I went to Hogwarts, and I was indeed in Ravenclaw. I even taught Defense Against the Dark Arts one year. Of course, due to circumstances beyond my control, I wound up having to flee the country.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Now, see? If it weren’t for my own skill at the Mind Arts, I’d find it much more confusing to have memories of multiple lifetimes.”

“I’d love to hear about these circumstances,” Gellert says.

“You’re a nosy one,” Suzy says. “The Ministry didn’t approve of what I was teaching. Quite vehemently so.”

“Can’t imagine why,” I mutter.

“It’s a pity that I didn’t have my knowledge as an Elkandu at that point in time,” Suzy says. “I could have taught the students there _much_ more interesting things before I was caught out.” She smirks. “Did you know I once discovered a way to disrupt a ward in such a way as to cause it to detonate? I then proceeded to teach the technique at the School of Thought in Torn Elkandu. I also taught a class on how to create buffered wards that couldn’t be subverted like that.”

“Why would you do that?” Gellert says. “That’s exactly the sort of knowledge to keep under your hat to use as an advantage over your enemies.”

“Because I _wanted_ people to learn,” Suzy says. “I dearly wanted to encourage them to keep learning and _thinking_. Precious few of them ever did. So, yes, so long as you’re willing to learn, I’m willing to teach. Knowledge is meant to be shared.”


	6. Dark Ritual

Three days before classes are slated to begin, we experience a reset.

I don’t think much of it at first. Tom, Remus, and Sirius have died occasionally over the summer, mostly due to Sirius deciding to take risks that would not be considered reasonable to anyone that isn’t immortal. I’d worry about the immortality getting to him and making him reckless, if it weren’t for the fact that Remus assures me that he’s always been this much of a reckless idiot. I have no idea how he managed to survive completing school.

Then there’s another reset. And another, and another.

“What’s going on?” Hermione wonders.

“Dunno,” I say. “But if they need help, they’ll let us know.”

Rispy appears. “We need help.”

I call everyone in for a quick briefing in the common room. Rispy takes a seat in an armchair much too big for an elf, and once we’ve all gathered around, he begins to explain.

“Black Spiral Dancer attack,” Rispy says. “A serious one, too. There’s a lot of them, and they’re really pushing this one.”

“Where?” I ask.

“Russia,” Rispy says. “Garou from all over the world are gathering to fight them off. It’s a massacre.”

“You keep winding up getting killed, apparently,” Abraxas says. “Why not simply avoid the conflict?”

“We’ll do that if it’s absolutely necessary, yes,” Rispy says. “I wanted to see if we could handle it with backup first.”

I nod. “Good idea. It’d be best if Hermione and Luna stay here where it’s safe, though.”

“You are not leaving me behind,” Hermione insists. “I can fight.”

“You have a Gryffindor streak in you after all,” Gellert says. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Alright,” I say. “Luna?”

“I’m going,” Luna says. “I won’t stay behind alone while the rest of you fight.”

I nod. “Alright.”

“You’re not arguing that?” Luna wonders.

“That’s your choice,” I say.

We head out and Apparate over to the casino. Cassie brings Luna via Side-Along Apparation. We meet up with Remus, Sirius, and Tom, and from there, with the other shapeshifters who are heading over to Russia.

I’d expected that we’d either Apparate over or take a Portkey or a plane, but instead the Garou lead me into what they call a moon bridge. It connects one caern to another, and we wind up having to make several jumps from caern to caern to get to the site, gathering more of Gaia’s warriors at each stop along the way.

However, they refuse to let anyone but me and Remus through the moon bridge. A little ridiculous, seeing as they’re wanting to help, too, but the werewolves really didn’t trust the wizards. I wind up going with Remus to the threatened site and we return to Side-Along Apparate the others once we’ve got a fix on where we’re going. Between everything, we almost wind up arriving late for the battle.

“Reinforcements?” asks a big, scruffy werewolf when we arrive.

“Marauders pack, ready to help,” Remus says.

“How much help can a bunch of cubs be?” the werewolf grumbles.

“We can fight,” I insist, not bothering to mention that most of us are wizards and not shapeshifters. “And if we die fighting the Black Spiral Dancers, then so be it. Maybe we can still take some of them with us.”

The werewolf grunts. “It’s your funeral. I can’t protect you.”

It’s not long before the place becomes a war zone. The rest of us surround Luna and Hermione to let them give us backup with spells, while Rispy, Gellert, and I bring out our lightsabers. At least we can use lightsabers to cast anything that doesn’t require much wandwork.

Black Spiral Dancers come out of everywhere, and if that weren’t bad enough, it’s not long before I feel chilling despair.

“Dementors!” Sirius cries out.

“Patroni, everyone!” I order.

One by one, our spirit guardians come out at our pleas to protect us. The aura of despair quickly fades, replaced by fervent hope. A bloody battle ensues, but we are quickly overwhelmed.

* * *

I wake up in my dorm room and head out to meet up with the others in the common area.

“Let’s try again,” Hermione says.

We return to the battlefield. With more knowledge of what we have to face, we do a lot better the second time around. We stick together, fighting as one, clumsily, awkwardly trying to get a feel for one another’s strengths and weaknesses. I’d imagine that one day we’ll be a force to be reckoned with, but at the moment, we wind up stepping on one another’s toes more than anything else.

It’s enough, however. The battle winds down as the Black Spiral Dancers die one by one, and the Dementors are driven off. We start to relax a little, patrolling warily, and tending to any wounded we find.

An ominous rumbling sound echoes through the air. Black and red clouds fill the sky, as if staining the world with blood. I straighten to look skyward in confusion.

Screeching of unearthly voices cries out, “Freeeeeeeee…”

“Oh fuck,” Gellert breathes.

Four spirits emerge from nowhere and streak off in different directions.

“What in the fuck just happened?” I ask.

“it was a ritual,” Tom says.

“A gods-damned ritual, and we walked right into it,” Gellert adds.

“Explain,” I say.

“Look at all the dead on both sides,” Tom says. “They used this battle as a ritual sacrifice.”

“Oh fuck,” I echo Gellert.

“Whatever they used that much power to summon can’t be good,” Cassie says.

“Should we reset?” I ask. “Try to prevent this and stop this battle?”

“The Garou won’t listen,” Remus says with a sigh. “And if this doesn’t happen today, here and now, in this way, it won’t stop them from trying it again somewhere else. We can’t just let them rampage around the world. At some point, we’d have to intervene and stop them. And they’d be ready to ritually sacrifice themselves.”

“They’re insane,” Abraxas says with a scowl.

“That’s Black Spiral Dancers,” Remus says. “Completely mad, every last one of them.”

“Jez’kai is behind this, isn’t he,” I comment.

“Very likely,” Remus says.

“You cubs are still alive?” says the werewolf who had greeted us before. “Shit. We lost a lot of good people. How did you survive this?”

“Magic,” Gellert says offhandedly.

I snort softly. “We’re older than we look.”

“As you say.” He shrugs. “I’m not going to complain. You’ve been helping the wounded?”

“As well as we can,” Cassie says. “Most shapeshifters are going to be either dead, or regenerate on their own. Some of their wounds were infected with demonic corruption, though. I’ve managed to purge some of them.”

“Alright, keep up the good work, Marauders,” the werewolf says. “We’re going to evacuate who we can. Get the hell out of here when you’re done.”

Once we’ve helped whoever we can, we Apparate straight back to Salem. Suzy should know about this, if she doesn’t already. While the rest of us go off to get cleaned up and unwind, Gellert and I make for Suzy’s office.

“Please wait,” says her glowing orb secretary. “Professor Lawson will be with you when she has a chance.”

“Please let her know that this is an emergency situation,” I say.

“Noted,” the orb says.

Suzy comes out in short order. “What’s going on?”

“Jez’kai performed a ritual mass sacrifice in Russia to summon four powerful spirits,” Gellert explains.

Suzy visibly pales. “By all the gods and demons. Fuck.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t look good,” I say. “I’m still considering forcing a reset to this morning to try to stop it.”

Suzy says. “A few hours won’t be enough. He’ll have been preparing for this for a while. That’s not the biggest problem we have, though.”

“There are problems bigger than this?” Gellert wonders incredulously.

Suzy nods. “This is exactly what he did in the alpha timeline. The surrounding circumstances are slightly different, but this was how he set into motion his escalation of terror. He summoned the fucking Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

I blink. “Shit. Well, if necessary, I could force a full reset to go back to the day of my first death in Torn Elkandu, in the summer of ‘91. Would that be enough time to stop this?”

“Maybe,” Suzy says. “Not sure if resetting to Torn Elkandu would work or not, though.”

“Why not?” I wonder. “The Nexus would still be active at that point in time, wouldn’t it?”

“It might not be,” Suzy says. “Time Magic is _weird_ and you used int a way I’ve never seen before. Are you willing to risk it?”

“It would give us a chance to find his Horcrux and destroy it before he can do too much damage,” I say.

“I’m still not convinced that he’s using a Horcrux,” Suzy says, shaking her head. “He never seemed like the sort to want to rely on a mere object so much.”

“Sedder suggested the possibility that he has some sort of ‘curse’ on him, like Tarna Tanson,” I say.

Suzy groans. “Curse or blessing, that’d fit entirely too well with what I know of him. And to remove something like that would require someone of equal or greater power to the one that laid it on him in the first place.”

“Maybe he has an innate power like the Stormseeker, though,” Gellert suggests. “How he keeps coming back to life, in the past, without any training or input on his own part.”

Suzy nods. “This is also possible. A powerful enough Soul Mage doesn’t need a Horcrux to stay in the world as a wraith and repossess a body. I can attest to that personally, as I’ve done it myself.”

“If that’s true, how would we stop him?” I wonder.

“A soul trap,” Suzy says. “Provided he’s not powerful enough to simply break out of it by his own will.”

“Something that would keep his soul imprisoned somewhere and not let it slip out to possess a new body?” Gellert says. “That could work.”

“At least up until one of his mad followers finds a way to release him again,” I grumble.

“Some pessimism is definitely healthy,” Suzy says. “We’d need to make sure to leave the trap somewhere they can’t get to it.”

“If I reset now, would a few hours be enough to find and soul trap him?” I ask.

“If he’s at the battle site preparing his ritual, yes,” Suzy says. “And he’d almost certainly have to be.”

I sigh. “Normally, I’d be inclined to just let what has happened happen, and not reset just because something went badly. But this really seems like something that needs to be stopped.”

Suzy nods emphatically. “I won’t blame you if you do. I’ll try to trap him myself in this timeline.”

“I do have a way that I can take people with me who aren’t linked,” I say.

“That’s… tempting, but if I don’t do this, I don’t know who can,” Suzy says. “I’ll find and soul trap Jez’kai, and hope to the Abyss that we can take care of the Horsemen while there’s still something left to save. Go on. See if you can prevent this in at least one timeline.”

We head out back to our dorm to let the others know what we plan to do. I also send off a message to Tom to let him know to be ready to immediately Apparate to the battle site and prepare to attempt to soul trap Jez’kai.

“Everyone ready?” I say. There are nervous nods around the room. “Let’s do this, then.” I pull out a dagger and cut my own throat.

* * *

Once we arrive at dawn, we immediately set things into motion. While the others travel to the battlefield, Remus and I go to meet with the werewolves. I wish Millennium Falcon or Nine-Toes were here to back me up. Maybe if this doesn’t work, I can still grab them.

“Don’t go,” I urge them. “It’s a trap.”

“How do you know?” asks a short, brown-haired man.

“Time travel,” I say.

“It’s true,” Remus says to the werewolves’ dubious looks.

“I swear on the Sun, Moon, and Earth that what I say is true,” I say. “Jez’kai is planning to turn the battleground into a mass ritual sacrifice in order to summon the Four Horsemen into the world.”

“That’s ridiculous,” growls a gray-furred werewolf.

“My pack is planning to try to trap Jez’kai’s soul,” I explain. “If his ritual goes through, if you all go to fight, the results will be catastrophic.”

“We’re going,” snarls the gray one. “Even if you could convince us to stay out of it, which you can’t, shapeshifters from all over the world are gathering to fight.”

Giving up on trying to convince them, Remus and I make for Russia and appear near where our companions are.

“At least by Apparation we were able to get here early,” Tom says. “Are the werewolves staying out of it?”

I shake my head. “They’re coming anyway. I tried to warn them.”

“We’ll need to hurry, then,” Tom says.

“And hope we’re not already too late,” Cassie adds.

Luna scans the area, then points. “That way. I’m picking up a lot of dark magic. It’s like a stain on the world.”

“I don’t see anything,” Hermione says, squinting.

“I’ll take Luna’s word on it,” I say, heading off in that direction.

Although the rest of us have learned rudimentary aura reading, it’s very limited compared to Luna’s, I think. None of us can pick up anything from more than a few feet away, and it takes focus to make out much detail. And we still can’t see any of the strange creatures Luna says she can see.

Out where Luna points us, near a cluster of large rocks, Jez’kai stands, grinning madly. He’s not alone, and a pack of Black Spiral Dancers falls upon us as we approach.

“We’ll hold them off,” I tell Tom quietly. “Get the soul trap ready.”

Tom nods tersely, and gets to work on his magic. We don’t have the luxury here of being able to draw runes or wait for a specific time of a specific day of the year.

“So, you found me, did you?” Jez’kai says, licking his lips. “You’re too late, you know.”

“It’s never too late,” I say.

“Perhaps you’d like to reconsider joining me after all,” Jez’kai says. “I can be generous when the mind suits me, but this is your last chance. Surrender now, and I will let you live to serve me. Fight me… and you will _not_ die a quick and clean death.”

“No,” I say flatly.

“Just as well,” Jez’kai says. “I’m looking forward to having some fun with your girls.”

“Fuck you,” I tell him.

“Not a chance in the Void,” Cassie says.

Black Spiral Dancers start pouring in from everywhere, bringing along their bane spirits to back them up. Even shielded by Patroni, we’re reduced to fighting desperately for our lives, to try to keep them off of Tom long enough for him to finish the soul trap ritual. Behind us, the sounds of battle indicate that the Garou have arrived and joined the fray.

Tom holds aloft a glass orb and begins chanting in a harsh, guttural language.

“What are you doing?” Jez’kai demands.

The Black Spiral Dancers turn toward us with renewed vigor. Somewhere in their mad minds, they realize that whatever Tom is doing, he needs to be stopped. I take a nasty claw wound on my right shoulder, but I grit my teeth and keep fighting.

Tom finishes his chant. Jez’kai screams and collapses to the ground. A sickly black wisp is yanked out from the body and caught in the orb. It frantically and futilely flutters about inside.

“We did it,” I breathe.

“I hope so,” Cassie adds.

We finish cutting down the monsters who are immediately trying to kill us. The air rumbles, and I swear violently in several languages. Once again, the screams of the freed spirits resound into the air as they fly off in all directions.

“We… didn’t do it,” I say with a sigh.

“Fuck,” Tom utters.

“He must have already had the ritual set up,” Gellert says. “When the werewolves came and caused all that bloodshed anyway, it was still enough to trigger it anyway.”

“We’re going to have to convince them to stay out of it, then,” I say.

“I don’t have the energy to try that again,” Tom says. “That took a lot out of me.”

“Then we shall simply have to do it ourselves,” Abraxas says.

Tom looks at him, then nods grimly. “Let’s get this soul trap to Suzcecoz and reset again, then.”

We return to Salem and hand the glass orb over to Suzy.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t get out,” Suzy says. “Even if I have to _sit on it_. Those spirits will be a problem, but this will make things a lot easier. Thanks.”

“We’re going to go back and try again to stop the ritual from completing,” I say.

“Good luck,” Suzy says.

Strangely, the usual feeling of doom whenever anyone says those words fails to manifest.

* * *

I wake in my dorm room and immediately go outside and Apparate to Cardiff. At Buried Cable Sept, Nine-Toes and the others are preparing to leave.

“Nice entrance, Stormseeker,” Nine-Toes says. “Come to join the fight?”

“You have to stop,” I urge him. “It’s a trap. He’s going to use all the death and bloodshed as a ritual sacrifice to summon some nasty spirits into the world.”

Nine-Toes’ eyes widen. “What are we supposed to do about it, then?”

“My pack and I are working to trap Jez’kai’s soul and stop the ritual,” I say. “Please try to convince the other Garou to stay away from there.”

“I’ll try,” Nine-Toes says.

“I’m going to see Falcon next,” I say, then Apparate over to London.

Again, the werewolves here are preparing to leave. I rush over to Falcon.

“Stormseeker, glad to see you,” Falcon says. “We could really use your help out there.”

“Don’t go,” I say, and explain it again.

Falcon looks at me in alarm. “Fuck. I trust you, Stormseeker. I’ll make some calls and try to get as many Septs as I can to stay out of it.”

I nod. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank _me_ ,” Falcon says. “If what you say is true, we should all be thanking _you_.”

I bid farewell and Apparate over to Russia and catch up with the others, who are already making preparations. I let them know how it went, with great relief.

“Maybe we’ll have a chance to disrupt the ritual setup once Jezzy’s locked up, then,” Gellert says.

“I won’t be able to contribute much in the way of spellpower,” Tom says.

Gellert holds out his hand, and Tom passes over the orb. “Where did you even get this thing?”

“I made it at Caer Danas a while back,” Tom says. “Among other things. I was very busy.”

“You sure were,” Sirius says.

We already have our Patroni out and defensive charms up when we arrive at the location we’d found Jez’kai at before. The minute he’s in range, Gellert starts setting up the ritual.

“You again,” Jez’kai says. “And you’ve brought your spirit friends as well. It shouldn’t surprise me that you lot keep trying to interfere with me. Well, you’re too late.”

“Fenrir Greyback,” Tom says pointedly. “Just a mongrel with delusions of grandeur. It wasn’t so very long ago that you were groveling in the shadows of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“Oh, but I’ve come up in the world very far since then,” Jez’kai says, grinning toothily, then looks at Tom more closely. “Ah, you _are_ him, aren’t you. I _thought_ you looked familiar. Don’t expect me to come groveling back, Lord Voldemort.”

“I would not take you back even if you begged me,” Tom retorts.

“I should thank you, really,” Jez’kai says. “I learned a lot from you. In particular, what _not_ to do.”

“I’m glad to have been of service,” Tom says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Black Spiral Dancers surround us, but Jez’kai keeps talking. “I’m sure you thought you were so clever, your scheme with the Horcruxes. Oh yes, I found out. What price did you pay for your immortality, Lord Voldemort? How many times do you think you can come back from the dead before it takes its toll on you?”

“I suppose you could do better?” Tom asks.

“Oh, absolutely,” Jez’kai drawls. “You cannot hope to stop me. I am a god!”

“Bullshit,” I say.

Trying to fend off the werewolves without killing them is tougher than it sounds. I’m in full defensive stance like a wall made of lightsaber. Hermione is trying to stun them, but they keep shrugging it off to the point it takes three or four spells to knock them out. Cassie is holding up shields around us, while Sirius has transfigured ropes like vines to hinder them. One of them clips my left arm, forcing me to switch the lightsaber to my right hand.

“From my birth, I was blessed with a great destiny,” Jez’kai goes on.

“There’s no such thing as destiny,” I say.

“Let him rant,” Tom tells me. “They’re just empty words. Don’t waste your breath.”

“I danced the Black Spiral before I ever met you, Voldemort,” Jez’kai goes on. “And you know what I saw? Nothing less than a reflection of my own glory! But I had to bide my time. I was not prepared to fight you yet, then. But now? Now is the time that all shall see, that this is _my_ hour!”

Jez’kai raises his hands dramatically. Spectacularly, nothing happens.

“What is this?” Jez’kai mutters. “Where are the Gaians? They were supposed to be here!”

“They sent a rain check,” I say.

Before he can decide to abort and cut his losses, Gellert finishes his preparations and activates the ritual. Snarled demonic words sound even creepier coming from the mouth of a pre-teen boy. Jez’kai screams, and seems to be trying to struggle, but after several agonizing moments, he collapses, and the orb in Gellert’s hands is now filled with flickering black mist.

“Like spinning the worst candy floss ever,” Gellert comments, staggering a bit.

“Alright, everyone,” I say. “Now that the ranting madman is out of the way, let’s try to figure out how he set this ritual up and dismantle it. Holding off these Black Spiral Dancers is getting annoying.”

Cassie patches up my arm with a quick spell, at least stopping the bleeding. Pulling out my wand into my left hand, I proceed to start casting stunning spells to incapacitate the werewolves long enough to tear down this ritual setup. Cassie and Hermione intently examine the area, but it winds up being Luna again to point them in the right direction.

Meanwhile, Gellert and Tom hold back behind our lines, severely exhausted by the soul trap ritual. Gellert peers intently into the smoky orb, and taps it with his fingertip a few times.

“It isn’t a goldfish to annoy, Gellert,” Tom mutters.

“Eh, I’d imagine if he ever got loose, it’s not like it’s going to make him any _more_ pissed off at us,” Gellert says.

“Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen,” Tom says. “I would rather not have to deal with this again.”

“So what’re we going to do with this thing?” Gellert says. “Now that we have the world’s most evil snowglobe.”

“Reinforce the wards, first off,” Tom says. “Then, study it. Try to figure out what’s so strange about this soul that it refuses to die.”

“Are you so miffed that this crazy werewolf managed so easily what you sacrificed so much for?” Gellert asks.

“Absolutely furious,” Tom says flatly.

“I am beginning to wonder if immortality and insanity don’t go hand in hand,” Abraxas comments.

“Well, ask yourself,” I say. “Do your actions and perceptions still make sense to _you_?”

“Professor Lawson did warn us about how what makes sense to _us_ may wind up being wildly divorced from what makes sense to everyone around us,” Abraxas says.

“It would make sense in context,” I say. “It would just be a long story to explain it to others what the context is. If it were explained, I’m sure it would make good sense to them.”

“This is why everything is always a long story, to you,” Tom says with a faint smirk.

“Summaries often make you sound crazy,” I say. “If the Garou I warned about Jez’kai’s plot here today didn’t know me and know what I’m capable of, they would have thought my warnings sounded insane. Thankfully, the ones in Cardiff and London knew me and listened to me. And, thank Gaia, managed to get the others to stay out of it.”

“We got it!” Cassie exclaims.

“He’d left hidden runestones along the whole perimeter,” Hermione says. “This must have taken a long time to set up.”

“Destroying a few of them collapsed the entire weave,” Luna says. “I’m not seeing anything that might still trigger the ritual.”

“Great work, everyone!” I say. “Alright, I’m going to pull Tom and Gellert out of here, seeing as they can hardly stand, and whoever else wants to withdraw for the moment. I’ll give Buried Cable Sept a report on what happened here.”

“I would like to meet the werewolves,” Luna says.

I nod. “Those staying behind can get started on putting these dogs down.”

“Oh, but Harry, I’m too weak to Apparate!” Gellert says over-dramatically. “You’ll have to hold me.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “I am not too weak to Apparate, and I will take Luna.”

I snicker softly and reach over to put my good arm around Gellert. “Better hold onto that evil snowglobe well.”

In the blink of an eye and a crack of lightning, the four of us arrive in Cardiff. The group of Garou at Buried Cable Sept are standing around, waiting with bated breath for the word to go, still ready to leave on a moment’s notice.

“Stormseeker! Phoenix!” Nine-Toes says, coming up to us. “What happened?” He looks to the orb in Gellert’s hands. “What is _that_ horrible thing?”

“We succeeded,” I say, grinning widely. “We trapped Jez’kai’s soul and dismantled the ritual. The rest of my pack is there clearing out the Black Spiral Dancers, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a hand.”

“ _That_ sounds like a story,” Nine-Toes says.

“Oh, yeah,” I say. “Holding off an army of Black Spiral Dancers _without_ killing any of them long enough for Phoenix to take out Jez’kai? If you don’t mind, I’d like to sit down and get something to eat. I’m famished.”

“I’ll ditto that,” Gellert says, flopping down into the grass.

“I’ll call Falcon,” Nine-Toes says. “Then order a few pizzas.”

The four of us settle in to relax and recharge, while many of the local Bone Gnawers head off to help out my friends and Nine-Toes goes inside to make a phone call. I introduce Luna to the younger cubs and Sept guardians who are staying behind. They’re eager to hear about this latest heroic tale, so I just have to laugh a little and tell them about it.

“Y’know, Stormseeker,” says Falcon’s voice as he approaches from behind me. “For someone who claims not to be out for glory, you sure seem to be collecting a lot of it.”

“More like it finds me,” I say with a smirk.

“You’re wounded,” Falcon says.

“Just a scratch,” I say.

Nine-Toes arrives with the pizzas, one of which has a smiley face drawn on the box, which he hands to the cubs. “Look who just stepped out of the moon bridge.”

“Driving wouldn’t do,” Falcon says with a smirk, then turns to me. “Why don’t you back up and tell it from the beginning again? Complete with all the weird, twisty time travel stuff.”

In between devouring the pizzas, I retell the story for the benefit of those who weren’t present to hear it the first time. The cubs don’t seem to mind, although one of them surreptitiously tries to grab the soul orb from Gellert.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gellert says, pulling it back and shaking his finger. “That’s not a toy. Don’t touch it.”

“So, what’re you planning to do with the disco ball from hell?” Falcon asks.

Tom takes the orb from Gellert and says, “Study it and find a way to destroy it without it coming back to haunt us again. Failing all else, keep it somewhere hidden and behind the strongest wards and defenses we can manage. I would dearly like to know _how_ this mad creature keeps coming back.”

“Good luck with that,” Falcon says. “As for you, Stormseeker, I think I’m gonna need to push through a promotion for you.”

“Thanks, I guess?” I say. “You know, we died several times to accomplish this and left behind several doomed timelines.”

“Ah, just shut up and take the promotion,” Falcon says with a laugh.


	7. Studies

“So this is the old bastard himself,” Suzy says, gazing intently at the globe on her desk.

“Will those wards hold?” I ask.

“They should,” Tom mumbles.

“Adequate,” Suzy says. “Just don’t hand it over to a trickster god to let him play with it.”

“Who would _do_ that?” Hermione wonders.

“Rettah,” Suzy sighs.

“I’m going to take this to a secret location to study in depth,” Tom says.

“You’re going to take it back to Caer Danas,” I say with a smirk.

“It’s so obvious that no one would expect it,” Gellert says. “It’s perfect.”

“It has strong wards and the equipment I will need is already there,” Tom says. “And the wards now recognize me appropriately as a family member, as well, since I gained access to the vault. I’ll take some time to study the scrolls there as well. The Peverells, according to legend, dealt quite a bit in the field of death. Perhaps the knowledge of my ancestors might shed some light on this mystery.”

“Hopefully things will be quiet enough around here in the meantime,” I say. “It would be nice to be able to go a school year without someone trying to kill me. I wonder if other Harry Potters ever have that problem…”

“In some other universe, I’d probably be trying to kill you regularly,” Tom says.

“Maybe I do have it better than the other Harry Potters after all,” I say with a grin.

“I forgot to ask earlier, with school about to start up, were any of you planning to use an alias?” Suzy asks.

“Phoenix,” Gellert says.

“Right, does Phoenix have a last name?” Suzy asks.

“Uh… Black?” Gellert suggests.

“You can’t be Phoenix Black,” Cassie says. “Because then we’d be siblings, and we look nothing alike.”

“I was adopted!” Gellert protests.

“You can be Phoenix Lupin,” Remus says with a grin.

“Great!” Gellert says, then glomps him. “Thanks, Dad!”

“Right then,” Suzy says. “Cassie, I take it you’re fine with your name? What about the rest of you?”

None of the others want to use a different name, leaving me. “Would being Harry Potter be a problem?” I ask. “Everyone in Britain knew who I was even before I’d done anything.”

Suzy shrugs. “Nobody in America knows you, aside from whoever you’ve already interacted with yourself. If you’re uncomfortable with coming up as a footnote in a history book, by all means call yourself something else. It’s not like I call myself ‘Suzcecoz Ilawi’ around here.”

“I couldn’t even spell that,” Sirius comments.

Suzy chuckles. “Exactly.”

“And Lexen Chelseer is very likely a strange name around here, too,” I say. “Also prone to questions if they discover that I’m actually Harry Potter.”

“You could use a disguise,” Sirius suggests. “Hell, just change your eye color and nobody will know the difference.”

“That’s a point,” I say.

“You would last maybe a month before you did something to attract a lot of attention again,” Gellert says.

“That is also a point,” I say, smirking. “Let’s just make it Harry Potter and call it good.”

“Alright then,” Suzy says, then turns to Tom. “Good luck with studying that. Let me know if you need my expertise.”

“Vacation time’s over, I guess,” Sirius says.

“You are welcome to remain in America while I return to Britain, if you wish,” Tom says.

“Not a chance,” Sirius says with a grin.

“I will remain and continue looking for information,” Remus says. “Rispy and I have been following up whatever leads we can find.”

Tom takes the soul orb and stands. “Let us be off, then.” He scans over those of us who will be going to school. “Study well in your classes.”

* * *

The Salem Witches’ Institute doesn’t seem to use the same sort of houses as Hogwarts. Whether it has always been like that, or that Suzy changed it when she took charge or gained memories of her alternate self, I’m not sure.

It rapidly becomes apparent just how separate from their peers even Luna and Hermione are at this point. I don’t think they were ever really well in tune with them, but now? We’re outsiders here, and not just because we didn’t grow up in America with these other children. It was probably for the best that Suzy put us in a separate dorm.

At least they don’t seem to be afraid of us. We’re just weird British kids. Not terrifying Dark Lords.

“I would have thought you’d have this all down by now, Brax,” I say, looking over to the homework he’s writing.

“The curriculum here is… different from Hogwarts,” Abraxas says. “They focus on different subjects, and some things have changed since I was in school.”

“Like that there isn’t a class on history being taught by a ghost who knows nothing of what’s actually happened in the past hundred years?” I say.

“Yes, exactly like that,” Abraxas says. “World Studies has proven surprisingly relevant.”

Luna seems to have caught the attention of one of the boys in our year, and unless I miss my guess, the attention isn’t just one-way.

“What’s his name, Luna?” I ask.

“Nature’s Companion,” Luna replies.

I chuckle. “I mean, the name he’s normally called among people.”

“Oh,” Luna says. “Rolf Scamander.”

“Do you like him?” I ask with a grin.

“Yes,” Luna says, a little hesitantly. “In another life, I might have even married him.”

“Well, don’t let the soul bond keep you from enjoying life,” I say.

Luna shakes her head. “Maybe another time. I’m not looking for anything serious.”

I chuckle. “Well, you _are_ twelve.”

“This will be the last time I’m twelve,” Luna says. “It would be awfully awkward to go out with a boy who is really much younger than me, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I say. “It certainly would. Pansy kept trying to hit on me, you know? But I just can’t get involved with someone who really is a child.” I reach over and squeeze her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid to take a chance. You’ll be more likely to regret what you didn’t do than what you did.”

“Is that the sort of wisdom you’ve learned through your lifetimes?” Luna asks.

“Well, no, not exactly,” I say. “I wound up regretting everything but what would have made sense to regret. But never mind that. You have a chance to live and love, for a little while or for a lifetime or for many lifetimes. It’s up to you.”

“I’ll try,” Luna says with a small smile.

“Come to me if you want more terrible advice,” I say.

* * *

We’ve made a few more linked journals in the meantime so that we can keep track of what everyone is doing, since we’re split into three groups at this point. Every day, Tom writes down what he’s learned, if anything, which very frequently is just some idle remarks and speculation, and Remus writes down what he’s found, which is likewise.

“When you said we’d be exploring other universes, I hadn’t expected America to be first on the list,” Hermione says. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. At this point I can only agree with Professor Lawson’s assessment of Hogwarts’ curriculum.”

I peer over her shoulder. “Did you just write ten feet on the reconstruction of the Atlantean language?”

“Yes, that’s all I’ve got done so far,” Hermione says. “I haven’t even touched on adjectives yet.”

I’ve long since given up on convincing her that her essays tend to have scope issues. She enjoys it, and it’s harmless. Suzy is the only one who seems to actually read everyone she wrote, though.

One evening, I look in my linked book to see one message in Tom’s handwriting. “Come to Caer Danas. Bring Lawson.”

Frowning, I head to Suzy’s office with Gellert, who has invited himself along on the trip. That message doesn’t sound good, but if it were really urgent, he would have sent a more immediate method of communication.

When Suzy and I arrive at Caer Danas, Dobby greets us. “Master Hawke said to expect you. Dobby will show you to his laboratory.”

Past staircases I don’t remember, deep into a basement I didn’t know I had, Dobby brings us to a room containing an enormous crystal pillar. Shimmering fields surround it, and crackling black clouds swirl within it.

“Good, you’ve come,” Tom says. “We have a problem.”

“So I see,” I say.

“Damn, it’s grown this much already?” Suzy says. “I can reinforce it a bit more, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to hold him for much longer.”

Tom nods. “We need to find a solution, and soon.”

“I suppose if necessary, we can buy ourselves some more time, though,” I say.

“I have been performing rituals in an attempt to gather information,” Tom says. “Remus even went on a spirit quest. We have only come to the conclusion that the old gods cannot help.”

“Not even Gaia?” I ask.

“Sadly, she’s too weak in this day and age,” Tom says. “Perhaps a thousand, or even a hundred years ago, she might have been able to do something. The belief in this world has gone to another deity, and He does not like supernaturals. He won’t listen to us.”

“Why not get a Muggle to try to beseech Him for help, then?” I ask. “Surely the dislike of supernaturals extends to Jez’kai, too.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Suzy says. “But if what I suspect happens is true, I’m not sure it will actually help.”

I groan. “I hope you’re not thinking the same thing I’m thinking.”

“That he somehow retroactively blessed himself from the future?” Suzy says. “Considering he was able to retroactively disable time travel, up until Sardill intervened, I won’t rule it out.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” I say. “I was hoping that invoking the Trayziak Tatalyar would have been enough to put a stop to him.”

“Apparently not,” Suzy says. “It seems that it simply broke the restriction on time travel.”

“If Jez’kai has the powers of a god, why has he not tried to do more?” Gellert wonders.

Suzy shakes her head. “Having power and blessings doesn’t automatically give you access to the inner workings of the universe.”

“I’m not sure that he even remembers that future,” I say. “He gave no indication of it the few times I’ve encountered him. Not unless he knew about the Nexus because of what he remembered.”

Suzy paces around the room nervously. “Just revoking his blessings in this timeline won’t help, either. They need to be revoked in _every_ timeline.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’ve got a Time Mage on hand, then,” Gellert says.

“ _I_ certainly don’t know how to do that,” I say. “That sort of thing shouldn’t even be possible.”

“You already did one impossible thing to counteract the impossible thing he did himself,” Suzy says with a smirk. “Alright, listen. In one of the worlds the Elkandu explored, there was a spell called ‘balefire’. Effectively, it burns the thread of someone’s existence. More powerful balefire would burn someone out further back in time, undoing things they’d done in the intervening time.”

“That sounds incredibly dangerous,” Tom says.

“How much power would it take to completely erase someone who has already lived for decades, and centuries into the future?” I wonder. “And how much damage would it do to the fabric of the universe to do it?”

“No more damage than he’s already caused,” Suzy says with a sigh. “Or is likely to continue to cause if he goes unchecked.”

“I don’t even know how I might get enough power to do this, even if I figure out how,” I say.

“Wouldn’t it take less power if we didn’t have as much to burn back?” Gellert asks. “If we went back to when he was born, for instance.”

Suzy nods. “That might just work.”

“Great, we have an idea that, instead of being completely impossible, is now only mostly impossible,” I comment.

“Mostly impossible is slightly possible,” Gellert says brightly.

“How do we get back to when he was born, though?” I ask. “For that matter, when _was_ he born?”

“At some point in the twenties or thirties, I believe,” Tom says. “I’m afraid that I never asked him when his birthday was.”

“I’ll ask the Glass Walkers,” I say. “They might have records.”

“We’ll need to develop a ritual that can send us back that far,” Gellert says.

“If we had access to a Nexus, we could use that,” Tom says.

“And we’re back to that again,” I sigh.

“Right, I’ll start trying to develop a ritual just in case we can’t find one that’s accessible,” Gellert says.

“Sedder wouldn’t tell you how to get to Drakanna?” Suzy asks.

“He said he disabled it and destroyed the gateway,” I say.

“Damn,” Suzy says. “And no love for Calarey, either?”

“We’ve been trying to contact the Kalkandu,” I say.

“Seeking?” Suzy suggests.

“I can barely see auras,” I say.

“I’d suggest a locator ritual, but we don’t have any bits of hair or blood from them,” Gellert says.

“Some of them are related to me,” I say. “Would my sharing their blood help?”

Gellert’s eyes light up. “That just might work.”

“How long do we have?” I ask.

“Hard to say,” Suzy says, examining the crystal pillar. “Could be a week or a decade.”

“He has been wearing away at the wards from the inside out,” Tom says. “At the rate it has been decaying, I will need to start making blood sacrifices to power the wards.”

“Do we have any spare Death Eaters still laying around?” Gellert says with a wicked grin.

“Bellatrix is, for some reason, still alive, last I checked,” Tom says. “I could convince her to ‘help’. I believe she is still infatuated with me.”

“Ew,” I say.

“Yeah, don’t stick it in the crazy,” Gellert says.

“You calling someone crazy is rich,” I say with a smirk.

“I was not planning on – ugh, never mind,” Tom says.

“Make as many sacrifices as necessary to keep those wards up,” I say with a sigh. “Much as I hate to say it, many more would die if he got loose again.”

“For the Greater Good?” Gellert says quietly.

I shrug. “I’d not use that phrase, and I realize it’s a slippery slope. I won’t let that stop me from doing what’s necessary and prudent, within reason.”

“If what we are planning works, it won’t matter,” Tom says. “However, I shall endeavor to restrict myself to those who deserve to die, regardless.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“I don’t know the weave for balefire,” Suzy says. “But it sounds sufficiently similar to soulfire that you could probably extrapolate from there. Normally, I refuse to teach soulfire to anyone else. But I don’t have Time Magic, and I can’t follow you back in time.”

“I did develop a ritual that would let me carry other people back with me,” I say. “That won’t help with the fact that you’re not a Time Mage, though.”

Suzy nods, and looks between me, Tom, and Gellert. “And I don’t think anyone that isn’t linked to you and hence effectively part of you would be able to survive this intact, either. This will cause a _s_ _e_ _vere_ paradox with wide-reaching implications. Your innate Time Magic should let you ride it out, though, but who knows when or where you might wind up afterward.”

“We can deal with that,” I say. “I’ve been appearing in random places and times for longer than I can remember.”

“Alright,” Suzy says. “I will teach you, but I want you to swear an Unbreakable Vow never to teach it to anyone else, and never to use it on anyone unless you sincerely believe they are a multiversal threat and nothing short of it will stop them.”

I nod. “I understand.”

“You can say what you like about me, and I know I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my lifetime, but I don’t take the destruction of a soul lightly,” Suzy says with a sigh. “Maybe in some way I can make up for it all.”

“Sounds like we’ve got work to do,” Gellert says.

Suzy gathers us all at Salem for a special class, and secures the vows of every one of us. I’m a little hesitant about making such a vow, myself, but her terms are agreeable to me. This isn’t the sort of spell I’d want to use under most conditions, regardless, no matter how much I might hate a person or what they’re doing. Most problems can be solved by less extreme measures.

The soulfire spell is unlike any I’ve ever seen, and of such an extreme level of complexity that I have to wonder how she ever developed it in the first place. Magic in this universe isn’t done like this, not among the wizards of Britain at least. I can see now why she was so insistent upon us learning to read magic. We would not have been able to follow this at all otherwise. The spell is more of a weave, a tapestry of finely woven threads of magic. While the spell’s normal appearance to untrained eyes is a gout of black fire, under aura sight it’s far more terrifying. It’s not simply Fire and Soul Magic strung together, as the name might imply. Its truly dangerous component is one most people aren’t even capable of: Void Magic.

“During the Planar Wars, I killed every person who was capable of casting this spell,” Suzy says, then sighs. “I really hope I don’t regret this, vow or no. But I see no other option.”

“There are always choices,” I say quietly. “But sometimes, they aren’t ones we can live with.”

“You know, I like to think I’m good with Soul Magic,” Gellert says. “But I’ve honestly never seen anything like this before. It’s like you’ve taken what would normally be an incredibly complex ritual requiring a circle of thirteen and a room full of wards, and compressed it into a spell that can not only be cast on the fly, but without a wand or incantation.”

“Elkandu didn’t use wands,” Suzy says. “And most of the incantations used tended to be phrases in the caster’s native language. Such as ‘Where did I leave that?’ and ‘What time is it?’ Yes, those were the names of spells. Here you would say a word in pseudo-Latin and call it a Locating Charm or the like.”

“I’m not sure I can even follow this, never mind be able to reproduce it,” Gellert says. “I’m not too proud to admit that. We’d practically need to spend years learning a new system of magic to pull it off.”

“And that’s never mind modifying it to include Time Magic,” I add.

“Keep memories of this lesson and review them in a Pensieve if necessary,” Suzy says. “If you haven’t learned mental organization techniques well enough to be able to do the same internally by that point.”

“We don’t _have_ years to practice this,” Tom says.

“We should have time in the past, though,” Cassie says. “We can make time for it if necessary.”

“The Glass Walkers got back to me with their records,” I say. “Well, technically they got the records from the Silver Fangs and relayed them to me, but regardless. Fenrir Greyback was born to the Shadow Lords in 1933.”

“1933,” Tom repeats flatly. “Why does it have to be 1933?”

“Well, I was in America in the twenties,” Gellert says. “If we aim to go back to that point, that should give us the years we need to perfect this enough to pull it off.”

“The place where we really learned to use magic like this was called the _Wheel of Time_ universe,” Suzy says. “Don’t go there. Just… don’t.”

“I’ll take your word on that, but I’m curious to know what’s so bad about it,” I say.

“In short, most of you are men,” Suzy says. “The place is not friendly to male mages.”

“Oh,” I say. “Oh, shit, I think I had a dream of that place once. Some crazy witches tried to cut off my magic.”

“That’d be the place,” Suzy says. “Barring that, I’ll show you a few simpler weaves that might help as stepping stones. Compressing years’ worth of studies into a few days would be less than ideal if you had no way to review the memories.”

* * *

“I really wish we could have had more time to study,” Hermione says. “We might have more time to learn in the past, but I’d really like to learn everything _this_ place and time has to teach me.”

“Things don’t always work out how you wish,” I say. “Even with time travel. Don’t worry, Hermione. There will be more opportunities to study.”

Gellert collects a vial of my blood and carefully treats and preserves it for the ritual, and sets it up around the representation of Earth on the orrery in the room.

“I’m going to have to ask Suzy if this was the sort of thing she intended this orrery for,” Gellert says. “Alright, if this works, it should light up on the globe the location of everyone who shares your blood, with brighter dots for closer blood relations. We’ve set up this glass lens to zoom in and identify each match.”

“Good work,” I say.

“Let us wait and see if it actually works before making that declaration,” Abraxas says.

Once the ritual has been completed, the globe flares with pinpricks of light, some scattered around the world, but mostly concentrated in Britain and America, such as the Dursleys in London. One particular cluster stands out, however.

“What in the Void are they doing in Antarctica?” I wonder.

Gellert lets out a low whistle. “Harry, I think we’ve found Calarey.”

“We can’t be sure of that,” Hermione argues.

Cassie uses the lens to identify the dots located near the South Pole. “Silver and Keliole are there. Weren’t those names on the list?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Those are Kalkandu. No wonder we’ve had no luck tracking them down, if they’ve been in Antarctica this whole time.”

“That sounds like an excellent place for a holiday in the middle of winter,” Abraxas says dryly.

“It’s in the southern hemisphere,” Hermione explains. “It’s the middle of summer, there.” She frowns. “I don’t imagine that it will be pleasant, regardless. Even in the summer, the average temperatures will be well below freezing.”

“We’ll all need to be able to keep strong Warming Charms up at all times,” Cassie says.

“I’ll write to the others and let them know what we’ve found,” I say. “Then we can start planning an expedition. We will probably want to have everyone there, but we could probably Apparate in anyone that stays behind once we get there.”

“I’m not staying behind,” Hermione says, and there are nods and murmurs of agreement from the rest.

We notify everyone, gather everyone back at Salem, and collect the supplies we might need for this adventure.

“You’re going to spend your Christmas vacation in Antarctica?” Suzy says, raising an eyebrow.

“We have to find Calarey,” I say.

“We have the coordinates of where we traced the Kalkandu to,” Gellert says. “Now it’s just a matter of getting there and finding the place.”

“And getting past its defenses,” Abraxas adds.

“I wish I at least knew them enough to be able to send a Patronus to them,” I say. “I’m barely aware of their existence, even if I know they’re related to me.”

“Would they cheerfully open their gates for you even if you could?” Gellert asks.

Suzy snorts softly. “Related or no, they’d try to kill you. They might still. They’re Kalkandu. They’re Kalkandu from a time period that never had a chance to outgrow their overzealous crusading. Be careful.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I say.

“Not that that’s saying much, of course,” Suzy goes on. “It took them five hundred years to outgrow their overzealous crusading, and that only because Hawthorne curb stomped them when they were stupid enough to hold her prisoner next to their magic item storage room.”

“Let us not get complacent,” Tom says. “We must be prepared to fight.”

“A trek to the other side of the world through a frozen wasteland followed by infiltrating the stronghold of a group of zealots?” Abraxas says. “We are all insane.”


	8. Passage to Antarctica

Bellatrix looks entirely too gleeful of the prospect of sacrificing large numbers of people to please her Master. Whenever I think that I and my companions are insane, I should remember the look in her eyes, and realize that we’re simply weird.

“Of course, Master,” Bellatrix says with a wild grin. “It shall be done.”

“Contact Lucius if your supply is running low,” Tom says. “I have instructed him to keep you stocked.”

“One per week?” Bellatrix says.

Tom nods. “For the moment. If you detect signs of the wards weakening too quickly, you will need to step up the sacrifices accordingly. I estimate that the amount of power required to keep those wards up will continue to increase.”

“Try not to make a mess of the house while we’re gone,” I say. “And if you harm a hair on Dobby’s head, I will make sure _you_ are sacrificed as well.”

Dobby pats his bare head and gives me an odd look.

“It’s a figure of speech,” I say with a smirk.

“When can we expect you back, my lords?” Bellatrix says.

“I don’t know,” I say. “But if we come back, it means that we’ve failed.”

Apparating long distances too much is a bit draining, but well worth it in many circumstances. The big problem with Apparation is the necessity for familiarity with a place. I wouldn’t trust being able to Apparate to a place I only saw in passing years or lifetimes ago. Although with those mental organization techniques Suzy keeps talking about that I never had a chance to learn, that might be more doable.

“Falcon, can you get me and my pack to Antarctica?” I ask.

“Antarctica?” Falcon says. “Alright then, that’s doable.”

“After the hassle the werewolves gave us when we tried to help with the Russia incident, I’ve decided that we’ll just use mundane transport this time,” I say.

“Planes and ships it is,” Falcon says. “They gave you hell about the moon bridges, I take it?”

“Just a little bit of hell, and some racist slurs regarding wizards and threats of violence,” I say.

“Ugh,” Falcon says. “Sometimes I hate Garou, and I am one. Which side of the pond were you planning on departing from?”

“Going from Massachusetts would be simplest,” I say. “Some of us can’t pop all over the place quite so casually.”

“So, nine passports, or ten?” Falcon asks.

“Nine,” Rispy puts in. “Nobody will notice me if I don’t want them to.”

“ _I_ didn’t notice you there,” I say.

Rispy just grins.

I turn back to Falcon. “And if it’s going to be expensive, I’ll have Gringotts transfer you as many galleons as necessary,” I say. “Or pounds or dollars. Between me and Sirius, we should be able to cover it, I’m sure.”

“Right then, I’ll drop you a line when we’ve got it all set up for you,” Falcon says.

“In the meantime, I’m going to go shopping,” I say. “Got to make sure to take along all the supplies I think I might need, and a lot that I don’t think I’ll need. We’ll be going into hostile territory, and I won’t count on simply Apparating back to civilization just because someone forgot their toothbrush. Thankfully, Diagon Alley isn’t too far from here. Selenis makes me… uncomfortable, and I’m not really sure why.”

“It’s an odd place,” Falcon agrees.

I’m paranoid and would rather be over-prepared than under-prepared. I do, however, put up a quick Color-Change Charm over my eyes before stepping into the Leaky Cauldron. Nobody gives a second glance to brown-eyed Harry Potter on holiday shopping for Christmas gifts for his friends and family.

“Say, have I seen you before?”

Almost nobody. I turn to face a red-haired man I recognize as Arthur Weasley.

“I don’t know, sir,” I reply smoothly. “Have you?”

“You must be one of my children’s classmates,” Arthur says.

“Maybe so, sir,” I say.

“Planning a trip?” Arthur asks, peering over my shoulder at the gear I’m looking at.

This is the first time I’ve visited Diagon Alley since I learned to read auras, and it has been fascinating to examine the enchantments on items more directly. Many of them are so sophisticated that I couldn’t begin to untangle them. It must take quite a bit of work to construct something like a magical tent.

“Yes, sir,” I reply.

“Likewise,” Arthur says. “My family’s going to Romania to visit my son, Charlie. He works with dragons.”

“Really?” I say. “Cool!”

“Where are you heading?” Arthur asks.

I wink. “Top secret. Give you a hint. It’s awfully cold there.” I pause, looking at the self-extending grappling hooks and magically-sticking wedges. “Also, you can never have too much rope.”

“Where’s your parents?” Arthur wonders.

“Dead,” I say with a shrug. “My godfather is busy making arrangements, though, and left this to me. Oh, hey, shoes!”

“Wait, _now_ I know who you are,” Arthur says. “I almost didn’t recognize you with those eyes. Harry –“

“Shhh,” I hush him quickly.

Arthur clears his throat. “Why should I keep it quiet? You almost killed me!” he hisses.

“I saved your life,” I say quietly. “I was using Polyjuice to impersonate Dumbledore.”

“You _what_?” Arthur almost shouts.

“I’m not going to hold a life debt over you for it, but I’d appreciate if you kept quiet that I’m here,” I say. “I should’ve just sent my house-elf to go shopping for me.”

“What, lay low, you?” Rispy says brightly. “Not a chance.”

“Well, so long as you’re here and not pretending to be invisible again, can you help me carry this stuff?” I smirk at Rispy.

“Ah, the perils of making witty comments,” Rispy says, gathering up the equipment I’d picked out.

“I am very confused now,” Arthur says.

“It happens,” I say. “I don’t have time to go into it all. Trust me when I say that it’s _complicated_. The Ministry was in the process of being subverted by forces of very literal evil, who serve the manifestation of entropy and decay. I’ve been working to track down and stop those forces.”

“I guess I don’t have much choice but to take your word on it,” Arthur says hesitantly.

“There are always choices,” I say. “Don’t take my word on it. I could still be deceiving you. Ask your children. Ron and Ginny are good kids. Listen to them.”

Children with a place in this world. Children with loving families that I would not wish to take them away from. Much as I’ve enjoyed our friendship, they belong in this world. I just have to wonder if this world will still be here when we’re done.

“Now,” I say calmly. “Are you going to attempt to arrest me, or shall I continue my shopping?”

“I don’t think we need Diagon Alley blown up,” Arthur says diplomatically.

I incline my head toward him in thanks, and go to purchase my supplies. Once I have those in hand, I return to Salem, startling a group of younger students who are making a snow fort outside.

We drive to Boston, and from there we catch a flight to Miami. Flying by airplane is a new experience for me, but it’s similar enough to a spaceship or speeder that I’m comfortable with it. You won’t catch me dead on a broomstick unless it’s absolutely necessary. And it has so far never actually been necessary. After a short enough wait, we board a plane to Sao Paulo. Most of the others take a nap during this flight, but I can’t rest.

During the layover at Guarulhos international airport, Sirius says, “Hey, Harry, what are those birds saying? I don’t speak Spanish.”

“They’re speaking Portuguese,” Hermione corrects him. “We’re in Brazil. They speak Portuguese here.”

“Technically, we are in an airport,” Remus says. “They could be from anywhere.”

“Well, whatever it is, I can’t understand a word they’re saying,” Sirius says. “And Harry here magically speaks every language.”

“They’re talking shit about the stupid tourists,” I say lightly.

“Well, damn,” Sirius says. “Can you convince them that I’m not a just a stupid tourist?”

“I’m not going to help you hit on the Brazilian ladies, Sirius,” I reply with a smirk.

The next plane takes us to Buenos Aires. I almost manage to drift off this time, but I’m jolted to alertness again by the announcement of the plane about to land.

“So, what language are _they_ speaking?” Sirius asks, indicating a trio of young men.

“I don’t know,” I say.

“You can’t understand them?” Sirius wonders.

“I can understand them fine,” I say. “I just can’t identify their language.”

“German,” Hermione says.

“You speak German?” Sirius asks.

“No,” Hermione says. “But they have a German flag sticker on their luggage.”

“One point to Hermione for observation skills,” I say, chuckling.

“Where is our next flight?” Abraxas asks.

“Uh-shoo… something,” Sirius says.

“Ushuaia,” Hermione says. “It’s considered by some to be the southernmost city in the world, but it’s actually contending with two other cities for that title.”

“You spent the whole trip reading about where we’re going, didn’t you,” Remus says with a grin.

“I hope we can see fairy penguins sometime,” Luna says absently. “It’s a pity we’re not going to Australia. I’d like to see a platypus, too.”

“I have to ask,” Abraxas says. “What, pray tell, is a platypus?”

“It’s a furry creature with the bill of a duck and the tail of a beaver,” Luna says. “It lays eggs, and has a venomous spur. They hunt prey using electricity. They also don’t have a stomach.”

“Now you are just having me on,” Abraxas says. “The wrackspurts, nargles, wolpertingers, those all sound like perfectly sensible creatures. But this ‘platypus’ could not possibly exist.”

It’s morning by the time we arrive in Ushuaia, and a beautiful, sunny day, after we’d left behind the snow in Massachusetts. I’m pretty tired by the time we arrive, and would happily spend the rest of the day asleep. It’s a good thing that our ship doesn’t leave today. We head over to check in at our hotel, then those of us who aren’t just going in to get cleaned up and take a nap decide to wander out and be stupid tourists.

I wake in the evening with my stomach rumbling. Not seeing any sign of the others, I head out myself and order some food. It’s 9 PM and the sun is only now starting to set.

“Where you from, kid?” asks a local man.

“Wales,” I reply. “I’m here to see Antarctica.”

“Everyone comes here to see Antarctica,” he says. “Your Spanish is very good!” So that’s what language I’m speaking. “How old are you? Where are your parents?”

“I’m thirteen,” I say. “And they’re dead. I’m with my godfather and the fathers of some of my friends.”

“Good!” he says. “Can’t go out to Antarctica alone. Best dress warm, too! Is it hot, in Wales?”

“Sometimes,” I say.

When we finally do set sail, I rediscover that I really hate sea travel. I spend most of the trip in my cabin or over the railing, utterly miserable. Much as I would like to just spend the whole trip unconscious, I never manage to fall asleep at all. It doesn’t help any that the ship’s crew are talking about how pleasant the Drake Passage is today, calling it the ‘Drake Lake’. Even if the shore is freezing cold, I’m relieved and grateful to set foot on solid ground again.

“Something isn’t right here,” Luna says quietly.

“It’s not rocking up and down, so I’ll take it,” I declare. I discreetly pull out my wand and flick it where there aren’t any Muggles to see it and cast, “ _Thermos_.”

The air erupts into a massive fireball in my face.

* * *

“The worst part of this is that we have to sail across the Drake Passage again,” I grumble as we board the boat again after resetting in Ushuaia.

“What happened, anyway?” Cassie wonders.

“It was a Paradox backlash, I think,” Gellert says quietly.

Luna shakes her head. “I don’t think so. The place felt different. Wild.”

Gellert frowns. “A wild magic zone? Without many people there, magic might do anything and run out of control, maybe.”

“Once we’re ashore and have rested, we can test it,” Hermione says.

“Let’s just hope the tent doesn’t blow up, too,” Sirius grumbles.

This time, I’m definitely exhausted enough to pass out and spend at least some of the trip asleep. After another tormenting sail, I stumble off onto dry land once again, and throw up my hands into the air.

“Yes! I am off that fucking boat!” I cry, and genuflect, practically kissing the ground. “Bless you, cold, hard ground!”

A few nearby Muggles make a smattering of applause and snickers. I’m not sure if they speak English or if my body language speaks louder than words.

I’m completely worn out by the time we get out of immediate sight of the Muggles and set up the tent. At least, even if they look at it, it does look like it would be large enough on the outside to fit all of us, although not very comfortably and not with enough room to do anything but sleep. They don’t need to know that there’s practically a whole mansion in here. A mansion with a warm, crackling fireplace and a hot mug of cocoa.

“Well, our Antarctic adventure hasn’t exactly gotten the best start,” Gellert says with a chuckle. “Let’s hope that’s not an indication of things to come.”

Everyone keeps their wands put away, very carefully avoiding casting any spells. The magical items seem to be functional and stable at least, though. If I had to trek across Antarctica without so much as a tent or bag, I think I’d just say fuck it and find another way.

“Remind me again why I agreed to this,” Abraxas drawls.

“Power, immortality, knowledge, and/or saving the world,” Gellert retorts. “One or another of those.”

“Is this a new Sorting Hat examination?” Remus asks.

“Which one of those would be Hufflepuff?” Sirius wonders.

“Immortality, I’d imagine,” Cassie puts in. “They’d be willing to work forever for something.”

“Are we all secretly Hufflepuffs?” Abraxas says, almost in horror.

“I’m secretly a Hufflepuff,” Tom murmurs, looking at the floor.

“You see, Stormseeker,” Luna says, scooching up next to me in front of the fire with her own mug. “This is why you should always wear your scarf.”

* * *

Once we’ve slept, we pack up the tent and trek inland, away from the prying eyes of Muggles.

I look behind us and say, “Alright, I think we’re far enough away now. I don’t see anything that way any longer.”

“Do we want to wait until we’ve rested again to test this, so that we’re both far enough away and haven’t spent hours walking?” Abraxas asks.

“No need,” Tom says, and pulls out his wand. Cassie yells at him to wait, but he’s already halfway through his spell. “ _Stupefy_.”

A flash of red light backlashes into Tom’s face, and he falls to the ground, stunned.

“Damnit, did he already forget exactly what we’re trying to test, or did he just choose an ill-advised test?” I mutter.

“That could have gone a lot worse,” Cassie says, leaning down next to him.

“At least this time he didn’t get a Killing Curse backlash in his face when he tried to cast a spell on you,” Sirius comments.

“I’m not sure if I dare try casting a Rennervate on him to wake him up,” Cassie says.

“Let him sleep it out,” Abraxas says. “It would serve him right for being an idiot.”

“Right, I’ll pull out the tent again,” I say with a smirk. “Unless you want to carry him.”

“I do not,” Abraxas says with a smirk. “And we cannot safely levitate him, either.”

“Or we could just take the opportunity to do the testing we were going to do anyway,” Cassie says. “A little more carefully than Tom, though.”

“Yes, we don’t need to _all_ wind up laying unconscious on the cold, hard ground,” Gellert says.

“So, what’s the most harmless spell you can think of?” I ask.

“ _Colovaria_ ,” Hermione casts, pointing her wand at a nearby rock, which obediently turns pink. “Well, that worked normally.”

Following her lead, Sirius casts, “ _Colovaria_ ,” at another rock. This time, however, it transforms into a very confused squirrel.

“That didn’t even have anything to do with the spell’s normal effect,” I say with a frown. “This might be more dangerous than we’d even thought.”

“ _Colovaria_ ,” Abraxas casts, undeterred. This time, the spell simply does nothing.

“I felt a weird surge of magic when I cast that,” Sirius says. “Like it didn’t want to go in the direction I wanted it to.”

“ _Colovaria_ ,” Remus casts. A large swath of ground suddenly turns purple.

“ _Colovaria_ ,” Gellert casts. The sound of birdsong surrounds us, despite there being no songbirds around, probably within hundreds of miles. “Yep, the spell just twisted out of shape when I cast it.”

Luna nods in agreement. “The effects are all tangled…”

Fortunately, they also seem to end quickly enough, as well. The colors fade, the squirrel reverts to a rock, and Tom regains consciousness, rubbing his head.

“How did I manage to reflexively cast that without thinking?” Tom grumbles.

“ _Colovaria_ ,” Cassie casts, causing Tom to turn green.

“Right, how have the tests been coming?” Tom says.

“ _Colovaria_ ,” I cast. Nothing happens. “Sometimes too much happens, sometimes not enough happens, sometimes something completely different happens.”

“ _Colovaria_ ,” Luna casts, turning a rock blue.

“And sometimes it works as normal,” I add.

Tom sighs. “In other words, we cannot really rely on magic at all here.”

“ _Colovaria_ ,” Sirius casts, causing Tom to turn red and gold. “There, Gryffindor colors suit you better.”

Tom rolls his eyes, and points his wand at Sirius. “ _Colovaria_.” Sirius’ scarf turns green and silver.

“Hey, no fair!” Sirius protests. “ _Colovaria_.” With a flash, Sirius falls to the ground, stunned.

“Right, perhaps we should stop playing with that,” Abraxas comments.

“I wonder if rune magic would be affected in the same way,” Hermione says.

“Do you really want to test it?” Abraxas asks.

“Yes.” Hermione pulls out a piece of chalk and leans down next to a large rock. Upon scratching out the runic equivalent of the Color Change Charm, she activates it, and the rock turns blue.

“Well, that seems to have worked fine, at least,” Abraxas says.

“That’s a very small sample size, though,” Hermione says, diligently going over to test it on another rock.

Sirius regains consciousness. “Ugh,” he mumbles. “And here I wasn’t even trying to cast a Stunning Spell.”

The second rock turns purple, and Hermione goes over to test a third.

“So, runes still work alright?” Sirius asks.

“It looks like it,” Abraxas says.

When the third rock turns green without anything weird happening, Hermione concludes her agreement, nodding.

“Alright, so we _can_ still use magic, we just need to draw it out in runes instead,” I say. “That’ll take longer and we won’t be able to do it on the fly or rely on it in emergency situations, though.”

“In an emergency situation, we can take our chances with just casting spells,” Sirius says. “Depending on how bad the situation is, it might not manage to make it worse.”

“It might, but it might still be worth the risk,” I say with a shrug. “Let’s get moving and see how much ground we can cover still before dark.”

“Harry,” Hermione says. “We’re south of the Antarctic Circle and today is the Summer Solstice in the southern hemisphere. The sun isn’t going to set.”

I give her a long look. “So the sun is going to be in the sky on our whole trip?”

“Most likely,” Hermione says.

“Well then,” I say. “Let’s walk until we feel like taking a break, then.”

Everything has turned back into its usual colors except for the rocks Hermione drew runes on. She goes over and wipes away the chalk, causing them to revert to their normal colors. Without further ado, we head off, due south.

“I’d like to know how far this wild magic zone extends,” Remus says.

“It probably covers the whole of Antarctica,” Gellert says.

“Most likely,” Remus agrees.

“Except, there’s a stronghold belonging to a group of wizards down here,” Cassie says. “How do they manage it?”

“Maybe they managed to construct a small bubble of stabilized magic within their headquarters,” Hermione suggests.

“In which case we’ll be fine once we get there,” I say.

“Or they might simply have learned how to properly cast spells here,” Abraxas says.

“In which case we’re fucked,” I say.

“What’s more,” Tom adds. “We will not be able to Apparate here, either.”

“Ugh, you’re right, we’d just splinch ourselves,” Cassie says.

“It’s a good thing we brought far more supplies than we thought we could possibly need,” Remus says.

“I’ve generally found it best to figure out what amount I’d think is ‘way more than needed’, and then bring at least double that,” I comment.

“What would you have done if our magic items didn’t work right, either?” Gellert asks.

“Get the fuck out of here,” I say. “Then sneak back into Hogwarts and ask Moaning Myrtle to help guide us through the Umbra.”

“ _Moaning Myrtle_?” Hermione repeats. “The ghost girl?”

“Yep,” I say. “Okay, she probably wouldn’t be able to help, herself, but she might be able to point us to a ghost who could. Failing that, I’d try making a deal with a spirit.”

“Seems like a reasonable backup plan,” Remus says.

“And failing absolutely _everything_ else,” I say, “we can try a full reset. Send me back to July of 1991 and pray Suzy was wrong about the Nexus of Torn Elkandu. Although even if the Nexus doesn’t work, there are still portals you can just walk through there that aren’t connected to the Nexus.”

“For the moment, let us focus on the task in front of us,” Abraxas says. “Crossing a frozen wasteland.”

“On the bright side,” I say, “it has one up on Hoth. That the frozen wasteland doesn’t cover the entire planet.”

“That is hardly much of a consolation, considering we are on foot,” Abraxas says.


	9. Ice Realm

We trek across the frozen wasteland under an eternal sun. I would have long since lost track of the days if I weren’t still able to sense the movements of the heavenly bodies. I’m starting to see Suzy’s point about different sorts of magic. The purely passive sorts have been completely unaffected by the wild magic zone that makes up Antarctica.

I’m glad I went in for extra enchantments on our clothing and gear. It’s still bloody cold without being able to cast Warming Charms, but nobody’s freezing to death. And even with charms to make everything smaller and lighter, our packs are still unwieldy, but at least we’re not having to pull sledges.

Rispy is visible full-time now, too. I don’t know if the wild magic zone affects elf magic in the same way or not. I haven’t asked. He never says much. He never complains. He seems to be taking this all in stride.

We’re left to travel at the speed of our slowest member, in this case, Hermione. She huffs along, falling back again, and calls us to pause and take another break. “I’m slowing you down.”

“We wouldn’t have gotten this far without you,” I assure her.

Remus grins, an idea lighting up his face. “I could carry you.”

“You really don’t need to carry me piggy-back like a toddler,” Hermione says. “That would just be embarrassing.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Remus’ body shifts, taking on the form of a large, shaggy wolf. His pack is still on his back, the straps having magically expanded to fit around his lupine chest.

“Oh…” Hermione says. “That might work.”

“Right, I suppose the shapeshifter transformation _wouldn’t_ be hindered by this,” I observe. “They’re both Wyld magic.”

Remus drops down to the ground to let her climb on.

“Aren’t you cold like that, though?” Hermione asks. “And what happened to your clothes? Did they just turn into fur or something?”

“I’m fine,” Remus says. “They melded with my body. One of the first things Garou learn is how to not wind up naked after we transform.”

Hermione awkwardly climbs onto his back behind the pack. Before he can rise, Luna takes the opportunity to climb on in front of the pack.

“I’ve never ridden a werewolf before,” Luna says.

Remus, highly amused, lets out an approximation of a laugh as he straightens. “You probably won’t again, either.”

We set off again, making a bit better time than we were before. The children take turns and trade off riding Remus, who seems tireless in his dire wolf form, which he calls ‘hispo form’.

The terrain grows increasingly rough as we travel on, and after several more rest periods, a mishap strikes. Abraxas loses his footing as a crevasse seems to open right at his side, and he goes tumbling down into it as though swallowed by the ice.

“Brax!” I shout. I start to run up to the edge, but Tom stops me.

“Be careful,” Tom says. “You don’t want to fall in next, if the edge collapses.”

I nod, and approach more cautiously to peer into the crack in the ground. Abraxas isn’t moving, and there’s blood on the ice. He must have hit his head or broken something.

“He’s out cold, but he must still be alive or we would’ve reset,” I say. “We’ve got ropes, but he won’t be able to just climb out himself. Someone will need to go down and get him.”

“Shit,” Sirius mutters. “How will we get him out without magic?”

Remus shifts back into homid form once Hermione and Cassie get down. “I could try shifting into crinos form and climbing down there.”

“I don’t think you’d be able to fit,” Hermione says.

“Guys, I bought all that climbing equipment for a reason,” I say with a sigh. “There’s climbing harnesses, ropes, belaying equipment.” I take off my pack and set it on the ground, open one of the compartments, and begin pulling things out.

“You’ve done this before?” Sirius asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Jedi don’t normally rely on the Force to levitate ourselves everywhere,” I say. “Not even Sith. And I wasn’t one to stay home meditating. I actually went out and _did_ things.”

“So you’ve done this before,” Sirius says.

I pause. “Probably.”

“ _Probably_?” Sirius exclaims.

“I don’t actually remember,” I say.

“This is incredibly reassuring,” Sirius says.

“Oh, and letting a werewolf get stuck in a hole sounds better?” I roll my eyes. “Cassie, you’re the best with healing magic. Can you go down first and make sure that he’s alright? Passive diagnosis shouldn’t trigger a wild surge. And here.” I toss her some rolls of cloth. “Runecloth bandages.”

Cassie nods, and I get her set up in a harness, and assign Sirius to the other end of her rope with his own harness. I give some quick instructions on how to use the equipment, which I really should have done before this became an issue. I then have Remus shift into werewolf form as a big, bulky anchor for a rope tied to Sirius.

“Luna, can you get on the edge and watch them?” I ask, and she nods and takes position. “Sirius won’t be able to see down there. Give a signal to let him know what he needs to do.”

Cassie attaches the bandages to her belt, and uneasily goes to descend into the crevasse. Sirius clenches the rope in a death grip, not letting out any slack like I’d instructed him to.

“Dad, I can’t go down if you don’t give me a little slack,” Cassie says.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, too,” Sirius says.

“I’ll be fine,” Cassie assures him. “Come on, Brax is bleeding down there.”

Sirius hesitantly, reluctantly lets out a few inches of rope. Cassie tries to descend over the edge but can’t get any further.

“Dad…” Cassie says with a strained voice.

“Sirius, if you can’t handle this, let me know and I’ll swap you with Tom,” I say.

“I can handle this,” Sirius insists. He lets the rope out some. Cassie slips and grabs the ledge, clenching to the ice with gloves. Sirius hisses and tries to pull her back in.

“No, let me down!” Cassie says. “I’ve got it.”

Once Cassie and Sirius actually get to work and working together, I start getting Gellert into another harness, with a rope attached to Tom, whom I attach to Remus. As an extra precaution, I add an additional rope behind Remus anchored firmly into the ground, just in case his bulk isn’t enough. I don’t want to send any of the adults into the hole for fear that they wouldn’t be able to maneuver down there. I have Hermione take a position and keep an eye out for Gellert as he descends next.

“He’s alright,” Cassie calls up. “I’ve bandaged him up.”

“Gellert’s coming down,” I call down. “Think the two of you can bring him back up?”

“Dunno, but we can try,” Cassie shouts back.

“A hammock or something?” Rispy suggests.

I move back and sift through my pack some more, and pull out a hammock that I think could be used as a sort of makeshift gurney. “I’m tossing down a hammock,” I yell. “See if you can get him into it and tie it between you, and climb up with him.”

As they slowly work to get Abraxas to safety, I take out the tent and set it up a safe distance away from the crevasse. Everyone’s going to need warmth and rest after this, and Rispy doesn’t even complain about getting food and drink ready. I nod to him and head back outside to check on their progress.

Gellert and Cassie are slowly climbing out of the crevasse in unison, Abraxas’ bandaged body slung between them. Once they reach the lip, Hermione and Luna run up to help pull Abraxas up the rest of the way.

“Good job, everyone,” I say. “Come on, let’s get him inside where it’s warm. That goes for the rest of you, too.”

I release Remus’ ropes, and he goes over and picks up Abraxas like a china doll between two huge hands and carries him into the tent. Rispy has hot cocoa and a crackling fire ready by the time we all pile inside.

“Will he be alright?” Hermione asks. “He’s still out, that’s not a good sign, is it?”

“I don’t know,” Cassie says. “Wizards are tougher than Muggles. We can often bounce back from things that would kill them, like falls.”

“But magic works unpredictably around here,” Hermione says.

“Passive magic seems to work fine,” I say. “A wizard’s natural durability should count as that, right?”

“We have some healing potions and salves on hand that should help as well,” Remus says, pulling off his gloves.

While Remus tends to that, the rest of us strip out of our cold-weather gear and set it aside, and dish up a hot meal. I’m not worried about running out of food. I probably brought along enough to last ten people a year. I might have underestimated how much cocoa we might wind up drinking, though.

Abraxas rests on one of the couches while we eat. We talk little, and only quietly, as if afraid of disturbing him, or just too tired to talk. Gellert excuses himself first and goes into his room to sleep, followed by Sirius and Tom to their own.

“You should rest, girls,” Remus says gently. “There’s nothing more you can do and you need your rest.”

One by one, the others reluctantly go in to try to sleep, leaving me and Remus out keeping vigil. We’ve done all we can for Abraxas short of attempting to cast spells.

“That goes for you, too,” Remus says, looking to me.

I shake my head. “I’m responsible for him. I brought him into this.”

“We all came into this willingly and knowingly,” Remus says.

“And I could say the same to you,” I say. “You go rest. I’ll keep watch.”

“I was going to try making some more potions,” Remus says. “There are ones that might be useful that we didn’t have on hand. Thankfully, we have plenty of potions ingredients.”

“Are you sure it’s wise trying to feed him potions when he’s not fully conscious?”

“There are ways to –” Remus begins.

Abraxas stirs, turns over, and grumbles, “The sound of you two arguing is enough to keep a man awake.”

“Brax!” I cry. “How do you feel?”

“I have the worst headache of my life, and that includes the hangover I had after my wedding,” Abraxas replies.

“Let’s get some potions into you,” Remus says.

“Yes, foul-tasting substances could not possibly make things worse,” Abraxas drawls.

* * *

We remain where we are for a few days while Abraxas recovers, seeming none the worse for wear after the potions. Eventually, he becomes impatient himself to be on the move again.

“We cannot remain here forever,” Abraxas says. “Let us be off.”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Cassie asks.

“Yes, yes, I am fine,” Abraxas says. “We have work to do.”

We pack up the tent and resume our trip across the frozen wasteland again, this time a little more carefully, and taking it slow for the sake of Abraxas. He doesn’t even argue when we have him ride on Remus’ back the whole time.

I can’t help but wonder how many people might be dying back at home while we’re taking our time out here, but I try to put it out of mind. Bellatrix is crazy, but I trust Lucius to keep a handle on things. He’ll probably just wind up using the Imperius Curse to ‘transfer’ Muggle criminals to him, to be used as sacrifice fodder. If it’ll keep Jez’kai off the streets long enough for us to reach the Nexus, then so be it. And it’s not even that he might cause trouble for others, but that he might cause trouble for _us_. We’ve already had enough complications in obtaining the use of a Nexus. We don’t need any more.

“We should be getting close,” Sirius says, looking down at a map.

“How can you tell?” Hermione asks, peering over at him and trying to look over his elbow.

Sirius chuckles and lets her see the map. “Magic map. Sort of a specialty of mine.”

“’Marauders’ Map: Antarctica Edition’?” Hermione reads. “How did you make that?”

“I’ll show you later,” Sirius says, winking. “At any rate, I keyed it to the coordinates Phoenix’s ritual identified.”

Hermione turns to look ahead. “I don’t see anything yet.”

“Look closer,” Luna says.

Hermione raises an eyebrow at Luna, then peers forward intently, squinting. I do likewise. The air seems _different_ ahead of us, but I can’t quite place how. An illusion? Is Calarey invisible?

“And magic is calmer in there, too,” Luna says. “We’ll be able to cast spells again once we’re inside, I think.”

“Thank the gods,” Abraxas mutters. “It was beginning to grow obnoxious, living like a Muggle.”

“Muggles don’t have magic tents,” Hermione points out.

“Over here!” Luna calls, leading us off toward a large rock indistinguishable from the rest of the landscape. However, upon closer inspection and my own aura analysis, it appears to be a door or hatch. Luna feels around for a catch, and a large, round hatch pops open.

We look to one another for a long moment, then tentatively climb inside and pull the hatch shut behind us. The interior is a sharp contrast to the frozen wasteland up top. Although it looks like simply a cave, it’s warm inside, and illuminated from no obvious source. Upon closer inspection, the walls, floor, and ceiling are covered with some sort of yellowish bioluminescent lichen.

“If this is Calarey, where are the Kalkandu?” I murmur.

“This may not have been the main entrance,” Remus says, having shifted into homid form. “Just the entrance we found first.”

“So where in the Void are we?” I wonder.

From further down the tunnel, the burbling of some sort of creature echoes.

“Wherever we are, we’re not alone,” Sirius says.

“So, Luna,” Abraxas says. “Do you have any idea what manner of beasts we might find down here?”

“I don’t know anything about the beasts of Antarctica,” Luna says. “But if we ever make it back to Britain, I’ll be sure to publish a book on it.”

The tunnel branches up ahead, and around the corner, a monstrous beige turkey steps into view, gobbling at us menacingly.

“What the fuck?” I utter, reflexively whipping out my lightsaber.

The beast is enormous, and more vicious than one would have expected. I don’t know how friendly ordinary turkeys might be, but _this_ one almost takes my hand off. After the slow trudging across the open wasteland, a sudden, violent fight practically leaves me sweating, especially since I haven’t had a chance to take my cold-weather clothes off yet. After a flurry of feathers and slices, the body of a turkey as big as a werewolf lays on the ground in front of us.

“Why. The fuck. Do the Kalkandu have giant turkeys in their basement?” I wonder, leaning against the wall and stripping off my warm clothes one piece at a time.

“Maybe it’s their food storage area,” Gellert suggests.

“Hmm,” I say, looking at the turkey thoughtfully. “Who’s hungry?”

* * *

After a turkey dinner and a good sleep, we pack up the tent and continue on. As we penetrate further into the labyrinth, we encounter more and more creatures. Giant bats that breathe elemental blasts, mutated rats, a spiny boar, strange crimson cattle, and a small army of undead fish walking on their fins.

“The creatures here are so fascinating,” Luna says, leaning down to observe a procession of ghostly ants. “I wonder where they all came from.”

“They must have brought them through the Nexus,” I say. “From which worlds originally, I have no idea. I don’t recognize any of these things offhand.”

“How are they even surviving down here?” Hermione wonders. “What do they eat?”

“Presumably, this strange mossy substance on the walls,” Tom says. “Or each other.”

We wander around in the Calarey Labyrinth for days, or at least what would be days if we could see the sky and the sun were liable to set within the next few months. To avoid being overwhelmed by aggressive monsters, we wind up having to build makeshift barricades and set up forward outposts at key positions. I had no idea that this complex could be this large. At least we can freely use magic again.

After some while, we think we might be going around in circles. We leave signs on the walls and Sirius maps things out as best he can, though, and for all that, I don’t think we actually are.

“We’re lost,” Abraxas mumbles as we backtrack from another dead end.

“We’re not lost,” Sirius says. “I mean, yeah, we’re kind of lost, but we’re not going around in circles. This place is pretty big and the tunnels go deep and wide.”

“These tunnels aren’t enchanted to bend space like some of the hallways in Hogwarts,” Luna says. “I’m not seeing any signs of that.”

“But didn’t the locator ritual point Silver and Keliole into the middle of this mess of tunnels?” I wonder, pointing at the map and the two dots.

“They must be further underground,” Sirius says.

“How much further can they be?” I wonder.

After several more hours of wandering and fighting, the tunnels suddenly open up into a massive chasm, and I tumble and fall in. In the moments before I crash into the ground, I spot a giant spider staring at me, probably very confused by falling bipeds.

* * *

“Well, at least we can rule out some of those dead ends we wasted so much time on,” Sirius says.

“Looking on the bright side of sudden death?” I say with a grin.

“What else can you do?” Sirius chuckles.

“Fall into holes, apparently,” I say.

“My advice is, if you fall into a hole, be certain that it kills you,” Abraxas says. “It is less annoying that way.”

“Excellent advice,” I agree.

We make our way through the tunnels a bit more efficiently now, and reach the ledge again.

“So, shall we bring out the climbing gear again, or try to find another way down?” I ask.

“Our spells are working fine now,” Sirius says. “Let’s just magic ourselves down. Why didn’t we bring brooms?”

“Because I can’t fly for beans,” I say. “Using those twigs of doom never really crossed my mind when collecting supplies.”

“Here, I know a spell that will help,” Hermione says. “I read about it in a book.” She waves her wand and casts, “ _Lapsus pennae_.” Then jumps off the ledge. Light as a feather, Hermione drifts down toward the ground.

“Watch out for giant spiders!” I call after her.

“Oh, it’s a good thing Ron’s not here,” Hermione comments before floating down out of sight.

One by one, the rest of us follow suit and cast that spell and drift down after her. Hermione has already driven off the spiders by the time we get down there with a few well-placed spells, the last of them scurrying away out of sight as my feet touch ground.

“Good work,” I say.

“I don’t remember any spell like that,” Cassie says thoughtfully.

“I don’t think you read that in a textbook,” Gellert says with a conspiratorial grin. “I think you read it in a Dungeons & Dragons manual.”

Hermione looks a little embarrassed. “Well… yes. The religious people were always worried about people learning actual witchcraft from them, and we got to talking about spell creation, language, and belief, and I figured I’d test it out.”

“You decided to test it out by jumping off a ledge?” Sirius says with some alarm.

“It was far enough that if it didn’t work, I figured I’d just die and reset like it did with Harry,” Hermione says. “But I was sure it would work.”

I smirk. “And _we_ believed it would work just because you said you read it in a book.” I pick a direction and head off.

“Right, well, if we’re going to start cribbing AD&D manuals for ideas, I’ve got a few I’d love to try out sometime,” Gellert says, following after me.

“Is this what you spent all your spare time doing?” I wonder. “Watching _Doctor Who_ and reading AD &D manuals?”

“I couldn’t convince anyone to play with me but Luna and a few of the Muggleborns,” Gellert says, pouting.

“I played an elf druid,” Luna puts in helpfully.

“I was a mage,” Hermione says.

“Wait a minute,” I say. “You guys were pretending to be magic users in a school for magic?”

“Yes,” Gellert says.

“Why not?” Luna says.

“I was just there for research,” Hermione mumbles.

“Would you prefer that they pretend to be Muggles?” Abraxas says with a shrug.

“Oh, Dean played a fighter and Justin played a rogue,” Gellert says.

“These are Muggleborns?” Abraxas asks.

“Yeah,” Gellert says.

“Do they wish they weren’t wizards?” Abraxas wonders.

“Roleplaying games aren’t about what you wish you were,” Gellert says. “They’re about what you feel like playing for a while. This should generally be something you’re _not_. Even if Dean’s fighter doesn’t have magic, he still goes around with a sword slaying monsters, which Muggles never get to do.”

“I think we’re getting a bit off-track here,” Remus says.

Up ahead, Luna spots a door in the side of the chasm. Once we get it open, it reveals a set of stairs leading further down. A marked contrast to the lichen-covered caverns above, the stairway is clean stonework lit by torches along the right-hand wall. We go quiet as we descend carefully, but as we come to another series of corridors, it becomes apparent that we’re not quite at the actual headquarters.

“Why are the torches only on one side?” Hermione wonders softly.

“So you can tell which direction you’re going, I think,” Gellert says.

“If that’s true, we should be able to get through this labyrinth if we keep the torches on our right hand,” I say.

“Left is leaving, right returning?” Gellert suggests.

“If we’d started in their headquarters, it would be returning,” I say.

“At least there don’t seem to be any monsters in this section,” Abraxas says.

“Don’t say that,” Gellert warns. “Every time someone says that in a movie or on the telly, something inevitably jumps out at them.”

Abraxas rolls his eyes. “We are not in a Muggle picture story.”

Fortunately, contrary to Gellert’s warnings, no monsters jump out at us.

“Wherever we’re going, I hope we get there today, because I don’t think we can fit the tent in these corridors,” Sirius says.

Unfortunately, while we manage to map out a good chunk of the narrow corridors, we wind up having to backtrack to the entrance to lay out the tent.

“Well, it’s not a total loss,” Sirius says, tapping the map. “We’ve got a good idea on where to look next. Let’s try mapping the left corridor tomorrow.”

“It all looks the same,” Hermione says. “If we weren’t mapping it and leaving signs, we’d never get through it.”

When we get back into the labyrinth, however, the walls have shifted. Signs pointing to junctions now lead to dead ends, and dead ends have opened up.

“Of course it couldn’t have been that easy,” I muttered.

“Did the walls themselves move, or is magic shifting the geometry around?” Remus wonders.

“Luna?” I ask.

“The walls moved,” Luna replies.

“There might be some hidden switch or trigger to open them up,” Sirius muses. “Like some of the secret passages in Hogwarts.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Luna says.

“Now, aside from the positions of the walls, this map _is_ accurate,” Sirius says. “If we keep exploring, we might just find some spot that we can’t normally access without opening a wall. I’ll bet you five galleons that’s where they’re hiding.”

“We might be able to cover more ground if we split up,” Hermione says.

“No!” Gellert gasps in horror. “You remember what I always told you? You never split the party!”

“You also told me to keep an eye on the rogue,” Hermione adds. “And Justin never did try to steal anything.”

“That you know of,” Gellert says with a wink.

I clear my throat. “All joking aside, we should stick together. We don’t know when we might run into trouble, or stumble into their base, if Sirius is wrong about it being hidden further. And really, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s more defenses.”

“Surely there’s a better way to do this, though,” Hermione says. “We could transfigure or animate objects to explore down each corridor for us.”

Sirius snaps his fingers. “Yes! And I can charm them to automatically relay what they see to the map, too.”

“For most places this would be overkill or take longer than it would to simply walk there,” I say. “But for here? That might just do the trick. Let’s do it.”

We backtrack and set up the tent in the chasm again where we have some room to work. I’m a little uncomfortable with the idea of transfiguring creatures to do what we want, not that droids are all that much of an improvement. I don’t like the idea of creating beings just to enslave them, and I always have to wonder just how intelligent the things we might make really are. That’s getting off track, though. I’m already resorting to human sacrifice to stave off a cataclysm. What’s a little slavery to go down that slippery slope? How desperate does a situation have to be to throw out all your principles in some hope of being able to prevent something far, far worse?

As if reading my face like an open book, Rispy leans over to me and says quietly, “Don’t worry. These constructs aren’t sentient, or even alive. But even if they were, you could just _ask_ them.”

“What are you talking about over there?” Sirius asks, glancing toward us.

“Rispy, can you read my mind?” I ask.

Rispy chuckles. “I don’t have to.”

“Did I miss something?” Sirius asks.

“I don’t like slavery,” I say.

“We’re not enslaving things, we’re creating things,” Sirius says.

I open my mouth to answer, but Rispy interrupts, “Sirius. Do you remember that story he told? About the realm of the Shapers?”

Sirius frowns. “The… there was an island with weird glowing canisters, wasn’t there? Sorry, even knowing that it’s real and being assured of it, it still barely seems real, you know?”

“It wasn’t just the canisters,” Rispy says. “The Shapers created life. They created living beings. To serve them.”

“Oh,” Sirius says. “Ohh. Right. I see what you mean.”

“It would be interesting to be able to create life,” Luna says dreamily.

“Well, maybe if all goes well, we can visit sometime and you can learn how,” I say with a grin.

“I’d like that,” Luna says.

“Alright, this should do the trick,” Sirius says, holding aloft one of the finished scouters. They wound up looking a lot like weaverlings, actually. Metallic and spidery, but these ones are covered in glowing runes.

“Shall we go try them out?” I ask.

“Dinner first,” Sirius says. “ _Then_ we can try them out.”

“One must have priorities,” Tom adds.

Once we’ve eaten, we run a test with a finished scouter to make sure that it works properly, then let loose the rest of them.

“Look at them go!” Sirius exclaims, laughing as he points at the map. Walls appear and disappear on the paper, and the revealed area spreads apace.

“Man, it’s too bad we couldn’t have used those up above,” Gellert says. “They could’ve spared us a lot of dungeon crawling, but they’d have gotten eaten by the turkeys in an instant.”

While the crawlers are mapping the maze, we set to work on one of the walls that has been identified as a moving one. Most of the group is highly baffled at the fact that there do not appear to be any enchantments on the walls that would cause them to move. In fact, one of them behind us starts moving on its own while we’re working.

“Look!” Hermione says, pointing.

Sirius, closest to the wall, frowns. “I’m not seeing any magic being used there.”

“You don’t need magic to move a wall,” I say.

“Of course!” Hermione says. “The walls are moving mechanically! No wonder we didn’t notice any magic in them sooner.”

“This place is full of tricks,” Tom says. “It would greatly surprise me if any of them actually used this entrance regularly.”

“Surely not,” Abraxas says. “I doubt they spend much time taking walks in the frozen wasteland.”

“They probably normally come and go via the Nexus,” I say. “They don’t _need_ this entrance at all.”

“So why does it exist?” Hermione asks.

Tom scowls. “As a trap.”

“If they’re actually using the outer caverns for creature storage, they’d want to come out and check on them from time to time,” Gellert says. “Which would mean they’d want a shortcut through the maze.”

I examine the floor along the wall for any indication of an answer. Not a speck of dust in the entire maze, just steady, magical torches that consume no oxygen and never stop burning. I frown, looking at one of those torches. If this wall were to slide down like the other one behind us, the torch would have to be pushed into the wall. I reach up to grab the torch.

“Harry!” Hermione gasps.

“It’s not hot,” I say, although admittedly my casually clutching what appears to be a bright flame might look a little disconcerting.

The torch shifts like a lever. Upon being pushed back flush against the wall, it smoothly slides down into the floor.

“Right, I feel like an idiot now,” Gellert says. “I thought the torches-as-levers thing was _too_ obvious.”

With the assistance of the crawlers to map out the remaining sections, we explore the maze and open up the walls, and finally open up a corridor that looks markedly different from the previous areas. A wide marble hall extends before us, the floor engraved and inlaid with gold. I start to walk forward, but Tom puts his hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t be too hasty,” Tom says. “If they can move the walls, they can move the floors, too.”

“How many more tricks and traps do they _have_ down here?” I wonder.

Sirius calls in the crawlers and sends them to test the marble hall. A few of them, upon running over different parts of the pattern, fall out of sight as the floor drops beneath them.

“I see your point,” I say. “Right, don’t step on the gold squares.”

At the far end of the hall stands an imposing arched doorway. After all of the outer defenses, I have to wonder just what might be on _this_ door on top of everything else. Not detecting anything, however, we decide with a shared look to just go for it finally.

The door opens into another hallway with a guard post at the far end. Several blond elves stand alert, and spring into action when they see us. Different colored magic surrounds their hands.

“Drakandu commandos!” cries out one of the elves. “Sound the alarm!”

“We are not Drakandu!” I insist, then tell my companions, “Shoot to stun! We might still be able to reason with them.”

The Kalkandu are not shooting to stun. Fire and lightning rain down upon us as we frantically throw up Shield Charms. Frigid blasts numb our fingers and make it harder to use our wands and lightsabers. They are prepared and alert, and probably have known we were coming for days. It doesn’t take them long to cut us down.


	10. Nexus of Shadows

“Shoot to stun, he says,” Gellert drawls. “Reason with them, he says.” He smirks.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“That could have gone better,” Tom mumbles.

“Well, on the upside, we now know how to get there and can just walk right in,” Sirius says.

“They caught us unprepared,” Abraxas says. “How were we still unprepared? We knew we would likely encounter resistance.”

“We _were_ prepared,” I insist.

“I’ve never seen _elves_ so eager to attack humans,” Cassie says.

“Those were high elves,” Rispy says. “Proud, arrogant, and they _hate_ humans. Wild elves just want to be left alone.”

“And those weren’t like any spells I’ve ever seen,” Cassie goes on. “Except the ones Suzy showed us.”

“Exactly,” I say. “She was telling us that’s how Elkandu do magic. They don’t use wands. They just… channel it.”

“Elf magic,” Abraxas grunts.

“Which also means it’s a lot more limited, even if it’s powerful,” Gellert says.

“Why did they not even hesitate to open fire on a group of children?” Hermione wonders.

I sigh. “Rebirth. They must have assumed we were reborn Drakandu who had our memories of our past life restored.”

“How do they ever expect to win a war if their enemies keep coming back?” Remus wonders. “Although the same could be said about us, both in our own immortality and that of our current enemy.”

“It’s not really any wonder how the future version of Sedder who came back had already realized the futility of it, even if him shutting down Drakanna was inconvenient for us.”

“‘Inconvenient’ is not really the word I would use to describe this situation,” Abraxas says.

“We do have an advantage over them,” Tom points out. “They are used to using magic differently than the human wizards of Britain. They will not expect our spells.”

“Let’s hope that’s the case,” I say.

“Regardless, we cannot waste too much more time,” Tom says. “From the journals I left with them, Bellatrix and Lucius report that they have had to step up sacrifices exponentially. It will not be long before missing people begin to be noticed.”

We make our way back through the maze. At least now that we know the trick of it, we can navigate it more quickly. Once we’ve made it back to the final door, we pause to prepare. We’re not going to be caught flat-footed this time. Protective spells go up, a few of us down potions. Remus shifts form, and Rispy and I draw our lightsabers. The three of us charge in first, followed by the others, with the girls in the back row to provide support magic and protect them better.

The high elves are still no slouches. Blocking blaster bolts is easier than blocking spells, since many of them don’t have a single point of impact, but I use my lightsaber to cast shielding spells. I’m not used to that, and I’ve never practiced that sort of combat before. I misalign the spell, and a gout of fire breaks over my legs. I cry out, and stumble.

A rush of soothing cold covers my body and eases the pain. I don’t stop to look down, but I think Cassie is healing me. We can’t take them at range. They’re too nimble for our curses to land. I push forward, and Rispy and Remus at my sides follow my lead, quickly closing the ground between us and the elven guards.

“Stand down,” I demand once I’m up in their faces. “We are not Drakandu, but we will not hesitate to strike you down if you stand in our way.”

“Who are you, then?” asks one of them, darting out of the way, but stopping throwing fire at us for a moment. “Rezalkandu? They agreed to stay out of the war, though. Have they joined the conflict, too?” He pauses. “You look like a Chelseer.”

“My name is Lexen Chelseer,” I say. “I am looking for my grandmother and great-grandfather, Keliole and Silver.”

If Suzy and Tom can have multiple lives with multiple parents and families, I don’t really need to be getting confused about it, either. I can be Harry Potter and Lexen Chelseer. It’s funny how Tom could rightly say his name is Tom Hawke and it not even register as a lie, since that was his name in another life.

“I will not let you harm my leaders or invade my stronghold,” the elf says, scowling. “Should I fall, I will be reborn. You cannot stop us.”

“Neither can you stop _us_!” I retort. “Listen. It is _very important_ that we get to the Nexus, for the sake of the multiverse. I can explain, but it would be easier if you quit trying to incinerate us for a moment.”

The elves glance to one another and take a step back. They raise their hands, and a field of interlocking hexagons surrounds them.

“Fine,” he says. “Speak. But if this is a trick, be warned that Silver and Keliole are far more powerful than us, and you will not stand a chance against them.”

“If they’re so powerful, you shouldn’t be afraid of us harming them,” Gellert drawls.

“Will you let us speak to them?” I ask.

The elves look at one another, and one of them nods and heads further into the stronghold.

“Back up and put your magic blades away,” the elf commander says. “I will not have my leader emerge into a standoff.”

“Why, because you’d be embarrassed that you couldn’t kill us that easily?” Gellert asks.

“A bunch of reborn children, a werewolf, and a wild elf?” the high elf says, spitting out that last almost like a curse.

“ _I_ haven’t been reborn,” Hermione says, her voice shaking a little.

Most of the group isn’t used to seeing as much combat as we’ve been getting into. It’s a wonder they’re holding up as well as they have. It probably hasn’t really sunk in yet. A few years to relax, study, and grow up a little will do them a world of good. I wish I hadn’t had to bring Luna and Hermione along on this, but they _must_ come to the Nexus with me. I don’t know what might happen if they weren’t.

After a moment, the door opens again, and another elf emerges, this one much taller than the others. I have to wonder if Lezaria’s elves aren’t just a different sort of elf, but actually the descendants of humans who mated with whatever the original elves were. It’s impossible to say, short of time travel. Maybe I’ll find out someday.

“Lexen?” the tall elf says, looking at me uncertainly. “The Stormseeker?”

“Yes,” I reply. “Silver?”

“I am Silver the Great, of the House of Renneck, son of Dennor and Lincel, and rider of Narcella.”

“That’s great,” I say flatly. “Forgive me if I spare you listing all my various names and titles.”

“What are you doing here?” Silver asks. “And in such company?”

“Would you have preferred I come alone?” I ask.

“You would not have been able to get through the labyrinth alone,” Silver says.

“Then don’t wonder why I came in the company I did,” I reply. “These are my friends and companions, and I’ll be happy to make introductions and explain why we’re here if we can come inside and sit down and quit having elves trying to kill us.”

Silver hesitates and looks at us warily. “How can I be certain that this is not a trick?”

“How has this war gone on that you think everything must be a trick?” I ask. “Would the Drakandu have really tried something like this?”

“The Drakandu don’t know where we are,” Silver says. “And I don’t know how you found us, either.”

“You certainly didn’t make it easy on us,” Gellert mutters.

“We would have preferred to find a way to contact you short of invading your base,” Remus says. “However, all our efforts to locate any Kalkandu outside of this complex failed.”

Silver blinks. “Did you seek to join us? This was a strange way of going about it, if so.”

“I don’t give two fucks about your stupid, ill-conceived war,” I say.

“Have you not heard that the Drakandu disbanded and shut down their Nexus?” Tom asks.

“I have not,” Silver says. “Is this true?”

“That’s what Sedder told us, at any rate,” I say. “And I have reason to believe him.”

“He’s also too busy mooning over a Kitsune to bother conducting a war,” Gellert puts in.

Silver scowls. “Sedder is a liar and a betrayer.”

“This is really a long story,” I say. “And one much too complicated to recount while standing around with spells and weapons pointing at one another wondering who is going to break the ceasefire first.”

“I can summarize,” Gellert says brightly. “Time travel.”

“It’s really more complicated than –” I begin.

“That makes sense,” Silver says.

“Why is it that every time someone explains away things as ‘Time travel,’ people just go ‘Oh, time travel, that explains everything?” I wonder. “It explains nothing!”

Silver smirks. “I _am_ a Time Mage, you know.”

“Whatever,” I say. “Can we talk now, or shall we just get back to futilely and pointlessly attempting to kill one another?”

“We _will_ get to the Nexus,” Tom says. “One way or another, whether you wish it or not.”

“Why are you so intent upon Calarey’s Nexus?” Silver asks. “Could you not have simply used the one in Torn Elkandu? The Rezalkandu there don’t care who uses it or for what.”

I sigh. “That’s exactly the reason we came here. The Nexus of Torn Elkandu was badly damaged. It destabilized and had to be shut down. And Drakanna was shut down. This was the _only_ functional Nexus still available to us. Believe me when I say this, while not completely a last resort, was very close to it. We would not have come here if we had any better options.”

Silver frowns. “I see you are better informed of recent events than I.” He turns to one of the smaller elves. “Prepare a secure conference room.” The elf nods, and runs off inside.

“Finally,” Abraxas grumbles.

“I will hear out what you have to say,” Silver says. “And if what you say is true, I apologize for not having made myself easier to contact. We have, by necessity, needed to be secretive.”

“‘Secretive’ is putting charms on your house to hide it,” Sirius says. “This is _way_ beyond secretive.”

“We have been at war with a group of powerful wizards who seek to conquer entire worlds and build themselves up as gods amongst those who are weaker than them,” Silver says. “You understand my position, I’m certain.”

I snort softly. “And we’re at war with an immortal demonic werewolf who seeks to make himself supreme overlord of the multiverse and _already did_ in a future we’re _trying to prevent_.”

Silver stares at me in practically audible ellipses. “I see your point,” he says eventually. “Come. Let’s go sit down and you can explain what you mean in detail. There’s no need to stand around in the hallway.”

“This is what we’ve been trying to tell you the whole time,” Tom says in exasperation as Silver turns to open the door.

The conference room Silver brings us to is large and dominated by an oblong table with chairs along all sides of it. More high elves guard the doors, and a woman is already seated at the table. Aside from the pointed ears and the fact that she’s a woman, she would be the spitting image of me.

“My daughter, Keliole Chelseer,” Silver says by means of introduction.

“Please, call me Keli. By the looks of you, I’m guessing you must be my grandson or nephew.”

“I’m Lexen Chelseer,” I say. “Although I’m generally called Harry Potter in this world.”

“Oh, so you’re my grandson _and_ my nephew,” Keli says with a laugh.

“What?” I ask blankly.

“Lily Potter was my niece,” Keli says.

“How’s that work out?” Sirius asks. “You’re…” He gestures at his ears.

“My stepfather was a human,” Keli explains. “Not even a mage, either. Magnolia Evans was my half-sister. And you are…?”

“Sirius Black. Lily was one of my friends when I was in school.”

We make a quick round of introductions that, thankfully, does not require anyone bringing out a parchment to draw a family tree.

“I have to ask, if you were around, why did Dumbledore feel the need to give Harry to Petunia to raise when Lily and James were murdered?” Remus says.

Abraxas snorts softly. “Even if he were so inclined as to contact her, if she’s always this difficult to reach, I would not have to wonder.”

“Point,” Remus says.

“Yeah, you might say I’ve been a bit busy and out of touch,” Keli says.

“And _I_ have to ask,” Gellert puts in. “Your mother is named Hawthorne, right?” At her nod, he continues. “Your sister was named Magnolia, your nieces Lily and Petunia. How’d you wind up being named Keliole?”

Keli giggles. “Hawthorne’s elvish name is actually Lariole. It’s a translation into English. My name means Buckthorn. Since I didn’t feel like going by ‘Bucky’, I decide to just stick with Keli.”

“That’s fair,” Gellert agrees.

“Tell me more about this werewolf you mentioned,” Silver says, leaning against the table and cutting right to business.

“His birth name is Fenrir Greyback,” Remus says. “He calls himself Jez’kai. He’s a Black Spiral Dancer, if you’re familiar with them.”

“Passingly,” Silver says.

“We’ve tangled with them from time to time,” Keli says. “They sometimes allied themselves with the Drakandu.”

“That sounds fun,” Gellert drawls.

“During the previous wizarding war in Britain, he allied himself with the Death Eaters under Lord Voldemort,” Tom says. “An alliance of convenience, as they had nothing in common beyond hating the current regime.”

“Ugh, Death Eaters.” Keli makes a face. “It would figure. A few of the Drakandu attached themselves to the Death Eaters, too. And some of the Kalkandu to the Order of the Phoenix.”

“Was Lily secretly a Kalkandu?” Sirius asks.

“Not officially,” Keli says. “I didn’t want to drag Magnolia into our wars, since she wasn’t magical, but it wasn’t my business to tell Lily what to do.” She sighs. “I do hope I can catch her rebirth and help her recover her memories.”

Sirius stares at her. “Rebirth. You know, all this talk of rebirth, and it never really sets in just what it means. You _know_ people are reborn when they die? And that they can remember their past selves?”

“Absolutely,” Keli says.

“We shapeshifters know about rebirth,” Remus says. “But souls are reborn as different people with no memory of their previous lives.”

“Yeah, that’s normally what happens, without intervention,” Keli says. “We discovered techniques to trigger memory recovery in others, and mnemonics to allow us to recover our own memories without the need of outside intervention.”

“It’s what has kept this war going on so long, honestly,” Silver says with a sigh.

“Memory recovery…” I muse. “Would it be possible to use these techniques to recover my own memories of past lives?”

“Sure, you can try it,” Keli says. “I can teach you the mnemonics, too.”

“We really don’t have time for this,” Tom mutters.

Silver glances to Keli. “Are you sure we’re on the same side as them?”

“This again?” I grumble. “I thought we already went over this.”

“Apologies,” Silver says. “At this point, I am used to paranoia.”

“Understandable,” I say.

“Right, neither you nor the Drakandu has a high opinion of the other,” Abraxas says. “They would think that you are overzealous crusaders and believe themselves to be freedom fighters.”

“Overzealous crusaders?” Silver says with a snort. “Is it overzealous to refuse to stand for corruption? Is it crusading to fight for the greater good?”

Gellert tenses. “Right, the greater good.”

“We’re really not here to debate philosophy,” I say quickly. “At this point, I _do not care_ what reason either of your groups wants to take over the world. Maybe under normal circumstances I would have gotten involved in your war. Maybe I would have joined forces with you.” Fat chance, since I apparently joined forces with their enemies in another future, but I don’t mention that. “However, right now, I’m dealing with a threat to all space and time. Once that’s dealt with, _then_ we can worry about the details. You’re a Time Mage, you say. You should be able to appreciate that.”

“I wish I could have seen the future you describe, however,” Silver says. “Prophecy is never reliable.”

“I didn’t see it firsthand, myself,” I say. “Sardill shows me a vision of it –”

“Sardill?” Silver repeats with startlement.

“I know, right?” I say with a sigh.

“I have seen quite a bit of evidence to corroborate the veracity of this vision,” Tom says.

“Can you truly be certain?” Silver says. “Sardill is the lord of deception and illusion.”

“Sedder and Suzcecoz came back in time as well,” I say.

“Sedder is also a deceiver,” Silver says. “I am not familiar with this Suzcecoz.”

“The way you’re so upset at Sardill and Sedder, you must have known them well before the war,” Remus says.

“Yes,” Silver says quietly. “Sedder and I were… close.”

“Really,” Sirius drawls.

“Really,” Silver repeats.

“Ugh,” Keli mutters. “I really don’t need to hear about my father’s gay affairs with dark lords.”

“Sorry,” Silver says sheepishly.

“This is sounding entirely too familiar,” Gellert mumbles.

“You’re telling me,” I mutter.

“Apparently all boys want bad boys,” Sirius says with a smirk.

“Regardless, the people who have told you about this future, are they all Drakandu?” Silver says. “Can they be trusted?”

“None of this matters,” Luna interjects. “There is a werewolf out there who keeps attacking villages and killing people, and returning to life quickly without going through rebirth.”

The whole table goes quiet for a moment. “Luna nailed it,” I say quietly.

After a long pause, Keli asks, “What’s your plan?”

“We have his soul trapped back at our house,” Tom says. “But he is too strong to hold. He will break free any day now, despite our best efforts to maintain the wards.”

“We plan to go back in time to before his birth to attempt to erase him from existence,” I explain.

“That’s not possible,” Silver says. “The timeline will split. There will still be another timeline where you didn’t destroy him at his birth.”

“Normally, yes,” I say. “That’s what I would have thought, myself.”

“Jezzy’s been fucking around with time himself,” Gellert says. “He’s done a bunch of shit that should have been impossible.”

“At worst, it doesn’t work and you have to find a way to deal with him yourself,” I say. “At best… we save the whole damned multiverse.”

“And what if you fail in a way that actually causes damage to the timestream?” Silver asks.

I sigh. “I’ve considered it. It probably _will_ cause damage. Suzy says it will absolutely cause a Paradox and we have no way of knowing the extent of the changes that will result.”

“And you still believe this is a reasonable plan?” Silver wonders incredulously.

“No,” I say. “I believe it is an absolutely insane and ridiculously dangerous plan. However, I’m out of options. If you have a better plan, I’m all ears.”

Silver sighs. “I do not. If you give us a few days to discuss it, we may be able to come up with a better idea, though.”

“We may not have a few days,” Tom says. “I want to be out of this time before he breaks loose, and he could break loose any day now.”

Silver frowns. “How far do you need to go back? When was he born?”

“1933,” I say.

“1933?” Silver puts his hand on his chin. “You know that was the year we first activated the Nexus of Torn Elkandu?”

I groan. “Seriously? Is that why this date keeps coming up? There is _no_ way that this is coincidence.”

“When dealing with Time Magic, there are no coincidences,” Silver says. “What would you do if I refused to let you near the Nexus?”

“Attempt diplomacy,” I say. “If diplomacy fails, attempt violence. If we’re killed, reset and repeat and try something else.”

“You don’t have time for rebirth, though,” Silver says.

“Time Magic,” I reply.

Silver raises an eyebrow. “You intend to jump back in time in order to say or do something different until you come upon something that works? Have you done this already? How many times have you done this already?”

“For what it’s worth, this is the first time we’ve actually gotten in to talk to you,” I say. “We used Time Magic to get through the labyrinth, though.”

“You clearly have better control over your power than I,” Silver says.

I chuckle. “Not really. I have the slightest inkling of how it works, or at least I know how to reliably trigger it. Just when I think I have it figured out, though, I realize that I knew nothing.”

“I still have no end of misgivings about your plan,” Silver says.

“You’re not the only one,” Abraxas says.

“I have no idea what sort of backlash even the attempt might cause,” Tom says.

“I’m not even sure that we can duplicate the effect that we need to,” Gellert says.

“I barely even know what’s going on half the time,” Sirius adds.

“I have faith in the Stormseeker,” Luna says brightly. “And in all of us.”

“Luna believes in us,” I say, grinning at her. “I feel better about our chances already.”

Silver lets out a heavy sigh and rubs his face, and comes to a decision. “You may use the Nexus. If that’s all you want, I have no reason to stop you, as I had believed the one in Torn Elkandu were still active and you would have simply used that one if you could. As for your plan… I have no idea whether you might actually be able to succeed or not. All I can do is wish you good luck.”

I feel like, for once, that luck might actually be a good thing. “Thanks.”

They lead us through the base to what appears at first glance to be merely another tunnel. However, with the aura sight Suzy taught me, a shimmering portal partway down the tunnel is visible. I would never have been able to spot it with normal sight. It just leads straight down into the Umbra without transition.

The tunnel emerges into a place that strikingly reminds me of Torn Elkandu. Streets are arranged into a wheel shape, lined with faintly glowing cyan runes. But there are few people here, as though it barely functions as a real city. The buildings are perfunctory, guardhouses and supply depots. Rather than using their Nexus as the heart of a bustling city, as Torn Elkandu had, they’ve turned theirs into a military outpost.

“Fortunately for you, the Nexus can handle a maximum of ten people at once, but no more,” Silver says. “Or did you already know that, and that’s why you made sure to come with exactly ten?”

I glance sideways at Tom. “I had an inkling.”

“Now, I’ve never tried using Time Magic with a Nexus, but if this was your plan, I presume you know how to do it,” Silver says.

“Not a clue,” I say with a smirk.

“Gellert will need to activate it,” Tom says. “He is the only one old enough to have been an adult in the time period we need to go to. Cassie and I were only small children at the time.”

Silver raises an eyebrow. “Grindelwald?”

“That’s me,” Gellert says brightly.

“Ah,” Silver says. “A pity about your previous campaign. How has rebirth been treating you?”

“Never been better,” Gellert says, then turns to examine the eight runed obelisks that make up the Nexus. “So, just how do I use this thing?”

Silver points over the device and gives some instructions on where to channel mana. “You must keep your destination firmly in mind. A loss of focus or stray thought could cause deviations in your destination. The wrong place, or in this case, the wrong time.”

“Indeed,” Tom agrees. “Normally, when we use this method of transportation, we will awaken in the bodies of our counterparts already in that world. Only if we do not have a counterpart will we simply transport in as ourselves.”

“Strange,” Silver says. “That is _not_ normal. I assume that’s due to the method of time travel you use.”

I nod. “When I travel through time, only my mind and soul go back, normally. That’s apparently how my talent works.”

“That would at least avoid the potential confusion of meeting yourself,” Silver says.

“It’s a pity, really,” Gellert says. “If I went back in time and met me, I might fuck me.”

I roll my eyes. “Gellert…”

“Now, Harry, baby, it wouldn’t do to get jealous of me with myself,” Gellert says, waggling his eyebrows.

I can’t help but laugh. “Fat chance of that.”

Tom pulls out the linked journal and glances at the cover, thinks better of opening it and shakes his head and just puts it away. “Let’s not waste anymore time.”

“At least tell them we’re leaving,” I say. “Just in case.”

“I do not believe that it will matter, but fine,” Tom says, bringing the journal back out and scratching down two words. “We’re going.”

“Will our belongings come with us?” Hermione asks.

“It’s possible, perhaps even likely,” Tom says. “But I would not count on it.”

“Most of us won’t have counterparts in that time period,” Hermione says.

“That is also hard to say,” Tom says. “Sometimes you can wind up in the body of a counterpart you didn’t realize you had.”

“That sounds disorienting,” Sirius says.

“Just to be safe, let’s have Lexen hold onto anything important,” Tom says. “He is the one least likely to merge on arrival.”

“I’m already carrying most everything,” I say, although the others sift through their possessions and hand me a few more items.

We take positions around the Nexus. Everyone gravitates to the same positions they stood in on the Nexus of Souls ritual. But this time, I’m standing in the Lightning position, and it’s Gellert who is guiding the ritual.

“Time to go,” Gellert says distantly.

The runes along the obelisks flare to life, and glowing mists surround us.


	11. Fantastic Beasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it took me almost 50k words to get to the Fantastic Beasts crossover I'd intended. I really should know myself by now and to scale up any estimates of word count by a factor of five.

When the mists clear, we’re standing in what appears to be a destroyed subway, with some sort of shadowy cloud monster. The man next to me doesn’t really look like Gellert, but I _know_ what Gellert’s aura looks like, and the physical appearance doesn’t fool me for a moment. Cassie and Tom are missing, as I’d expected, but the others are all here.

“Fuck,” Gellert utters, then points to the opposite direction. “Cover me!”

“Shields up!” I bark.

My companions and I simultaneously cast a shield across the subway, reinforced with some of the techniques Suzy had managed to teach us. I don’t bother to ask why he wanted to defend the direction the cloud monster _isn’t_ in. This was his memory. He must know what’s going to happen. A man and a woman seem to be trying to get the monster to calm down.

“Credence!” Gellert calls to the angry black cloud. “I’m sorry!” He runs toward it. “By all the gods, I’m sorry… You deserved better than this.”

“Please, Credence,” says the woman. “It’s alright, we can protect you.”

“I’ll teach you, like I promised,” Gellert says. “I’ll teach you everything I know.”

The cloud monster starts to calm down, even beginning to transform into a boy. I have no idea when I might wind up if I die here. The tent in the Calarey Labyrinth would be logical, but sometimes my power doesn’t work in logical ways.

Down the tunnel, in the direction we’re watching, a group of wizards charges in and start hurling spells to attack the monster. Our shields ripple, but hold. Behind us, the monster rears up in terror.

“Piss off!” I yell.

“Stop!” the woman calls. “You’re frightening him!”

She clearly has more pressing things on her mind than the sudden appearance and aid of two men and a bunch of children. She probably didn’t even see us teleport in, with her eyes focused on the monster.

“Stand down!” says a dark-skinned woman, apparently the one leading the wizards attacking us. “We must stop this beast!”

“And if you _piss off_ , we can do that without destroying anything further,” I say.

“Who are you?” she demands. “What are you children doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you!” I retort.

“Seraphina Picquery, President of MACUSA!” she replies.

“Harry Potter, time traveler!” I tell her. “Nice to meet you, now _stand down_. We came back in time to prevent a disaster, and you’re _not helping_.”

“Newt Scamander,” says the man who was here when we arrived. “You are no mere children. Who are you really, really?” He waves his wand and casts a spell over us. While the rest of us are unaffected by it, Gellert’s face contorts, and transforms back into his normal appearance.

“That man is Gellert Grindelwald!” Picquery says. “We must stop him!”

“Yes, he brought us here,” I say. “He was the only one old enough to get us back far enough. The man spent fifty years in prison and regrets everything he did. Cut him some slack.”

“And I’m Sirius Black. Right, let’s have a round of introductions, followed by a nice cup of tea with a strong helping of not trying to kill each other.”

“Don’t you prefer coffee?” Remus says.

“It seems to be just one of those centuries, trying to get people to quit firing at me long enough to explain things,” I mutter.

“Such as this time travel you mentioned?” Picquery says. “We have massive destruction throughout the city, and countless No-Majs have seen magic! If you came back in time, could you not have gone back a bit further?”

Gellert approaches us, having left the boy in the woman’s care and seeming greatly distressed.

“Yes, Gellert, was this the best you could do?” I ask. “A fine point you brought us back to.”

“I’m sorry,” Gellert says sheepishly, putting his face in his hand and sighing. “I meant to. I meant to go back further. Silver even stressed focusing on the right place to go. But apparently this was the scene I couldn’t get out of my head.”

“Your regrets brought you here,” I say quietly.

“Time travel or no, we cannot simply let you go,” Picquery says.

“And we have important work to do, and I can’t let you stop us,” I say. “So what will it be?”

“I’ll go with them,” Gellert says. “I’ll surrender.”

“Gellert –” I begin.

Gellert shakes his head. “I brought you here. You don’t need me now. You can do what you need to do.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoff.

“You are obviously working with him, as well,” Picquery says. “We can’t let you go, either.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Sirius mutters.

“Are you seriously going to try to arrest us all?” I wonder.

“You leave me no choice,” Picquery says.

“There are always choices,” I reply.

We can’t keep the shield up forever, and Picquery and the sizable group of wizards she brought with her don’t hold back any longer. They unleash spells at us, finally tearing through the shield. But we still might have been able to defeat them if the cloud monster-boy hadn’t lost control again.

* * *

I wake in the tent. Cursing to myself, I stomp over to Gellert’s room. He’s sitting on the bed, looking at the floor.

“Gellert –”

“I’m sorry,” Gellert says. “That was my fault.”

I take a deep breath to calm myself down. Yelling at him won’t help. He’s already feeling guilty enough about the whole business. I lash out at the dresser instead, almost hurting my fist in the process.

“You want to get breakfast?” I ask.

“Might as well,” Gellert says.

The others have gathered in the kitchen and are waiting for us, glaring at Gellert as we come in.

“What the fuck, Gellert?” Sirius says.

“That could have gone better,” Abraxas mutters.

“I take it something went wrong,” Tom says.

“Gellert brought us back to the wrong time,” Remus explains.

“And you promptly got killed?” Cassie asks.

“They knew who he was and wanted to arrest us for associating with him,” Hermione says.

“We came out in the middle of a fight!” Abraxas says.

“We came out at a point he regretted,” Luna says.

“Regardless, this was not helpful,” Abraxas says.

“I’ll try to focus better, next time,” Gellert says. “I’ll try to get us in before that all happened.”

“It’s always the bad memories that stand out the most in your mind,” Tom says quietly.

“Preferably some time that’s quieter and allows us time to do some research,” Hermione says.

Sirius groans. “Now we have to go through the maze again.”

“Hopefully we can convince Silver to let us use the Nexus a little more expediently this time,” I say, not mentioning that I’d really been hoping not to have to repeat that.

“Perhaps, while we’re at it, you could explain just what it was that we saw back there,” Abraxas says to Gellert.

Gellert looks to his plate and doesn’t answer.

“Perhaps I could infer myself,” Abraxas says. “You were attempting to provoke a boy into turning into a smoke creature in order to disrupt the Statute of Secrecy.”

“An Obscurus,” Gellert says quietly. “And that wasn’t _exactly_ how it happened.”

“An Obscurus,” Abraxas repeats. “Fine, if that is not how it happened, then explain.”

“It’s complicated,” Gellert says.

I snort softly. “You don’t get to use that excuse, Gellert. Not after how many times you’ve said the same of me.”

“There was a boy who needed help,” Gellert says. “Instead of helping him, I pushed him and coerced him and wheedled him and ultimately, destroyed him.” He stands. “When we get back to the past again, you guys do what you need to do. Credence is my responsibility.”

“I will continue gestating, then,” Tom says.

“You haven’t been _born_ yet?” Hermione wonders. “How does that work?”

“Far more comfortably than inevitably winding up in an orphanage,” Tom says.

“We’ll come pick you up,” Remus says.

“We’ll be robbing the cradle,” Sirius adds.

“Wait, are we going to need to find Fenrir Greyback when he’s born, or when he’s conceived?” Hermione says.

“I honestly have no idea,” I say.

“I don’t believe it will matter,” Tom says. “So long as he can be found as soon as possible.”

“We’ll worry about that when the time comes,” I say. “Once we’ve recreated ‘balefire’ and pinned down Jez’kai’s time of birth, mother, and location, we’ll buy some more time to get there at the right point if we absolutely have to.”

“How much information did you get from the Glass Walkers?” Remus asks. “Or the Silver Fangs, really. They should have good records.”

I nod. “Yeah, I have his birth date and parents’ names, and he was born in Selenis, which should make finding him easy, too.”

“Why not just preemptively kill his mother and save ourselves the trouble?” Abraxas wonders.

“That would be counterproductive,” Hermione says. “That would shift us into an alternate universe where he wasn’t born, but wouldn’t change _this_ universe. He’d still exist. We’re trying to wipe him from existence entirely.”

“I would not want to try balefire on him until he’s actually born, though,” Tom says. “This is already risky enough without the prospect of entangling the mother’s soul in the matter.”

“Right,” I say.

We make our way through the maze again and I decide to try to bypass the fight entirely. I’m not sure if they’ll respect waving around a white flag, but at this point, it can’t hurt. The others stay back for now while Gellert and I walk in holding aloft a white flag, with Rispy at my side holding his hands away from his weapons. If nothing else, I’m hoping it confuses them long enough to let us get a word in.

“What’s going on here?” the elf guard commander says.

“I’m Lexen Chelseer,” I say. “I need to speak with my great-grandfather, Silver, immediately. It’s urgent, and I couldn’t contact him in any other way. Tell him Drakanna is down. The Kalkandu have won the war.”

“And I’m the rebirth of Gellert Grindelwald. Splendid work you guys have been doing here. You’re an inspiration.”

I don’t like the Kalkandu. I don’t _trust_ the Kalkandu. I don’t agree with their position or what they’re doing. But that won’t stop me from making nice just long enough to get what I need. And if that means pretending to be on his side, then so be it.

We manage to get to talk to Silver and Keliole without anyone trying to kill one another, at least. I get them to let my team in and we discuss what we need, explain the business with Jez’kai, and try very hard to spin it in their favor more. No outright lies, but the truth can be viewed from many perspectives.

And, while time is still of the essence, I’d rather not have to go through that all again. I manage to convince Silver that we need to rest first, and he permits us to set up our tent inside the Calarey pocket world to sleep. I think we’ve gotten him to trust us better this time.

Once again, we arrange ourselves around the Nexus, and I take up the Lightning position. “Focus, Phoenix,” I say quietly. “You can do this.”

Gellert nods, and activates the Nexus. The runes along the obelisks begin to glow, and the mists take us away.

This time, when the mists clear, we’re all standing in an office, with the expected exception of Tom and Cassie. No one is currently trying to kill us. No one else is in sight at all, aside from Gellert not looking like Gellert.

“Alright, this is much better,” Abraxas says.

Gellert nods. “Great, perfect. Now I can lower the wards on my office long enough for you all to Apparate out.”

“We haven’t been anywhere else around here in this time,” I say. “We can’t really Apparate out.”

“Oh, right, true,” Gellert says. “I’ll try to sneak you out, then. By the way, call me Percival Graves.”

We’ve no sooner left the office and headed out into the hallway before we run into Seraphina Picquery again. I tense briefly before reminding myself that this is a different time, those events haven’t happened yet and won’t if we have any say in it, and she won’t remember us.

“What’s this, then?” Picquery asks.

“Ah, good day, ma’am,” Gellert says. “These people are moving here from Britain. They don’t know anyone else in America yet, so I’ve been showing them around.”

A smile crosses Picquery’s face. “How nice. I trust they’ve already registered their wands?”

“We were just on our way to do so, ma’am,” Sirius says.

“Very good,” Picquery says. “They’ll be attending Ilvermorny next term, then?”

Ilvermorny? What in the Void is that? What happened to the Salem Witches’ Institute? My puzzlement is reflected on my companions’ faces, including Gellert’s.

I quickly seize an opportunity to cover it up. “Hello! I’m Harry Potter. Nice to meet you. Tell me about Ilvermorny! Is it like Hogwarts?”

“Hello, Mr. Potter. I’m Seraphina Picquery, President of MACUSA. Yes, it’s a lot like Hogwarts.”

“Wow, you’re a president?” I say, eyes widening in feigned awe. “It’s an honor, ma’am. I’ve been wanting to get into politics when I grow up!”

“I’m sure you’ll be great at it,” Picquery says, and nods to Gellert. “Carry on, Mr. Graves.” She heads off.

As she’s walking away, I turn to say to the others, “Did you hear that? A real president! This is so cool.”

“I don’t want to register my wand,” Abraxas mumbles under his breath.

“No help for it,” Gellert says quietly. “Not if you’re going to attend ‘Ilvermorny’.”

“I believe we’ve taken up enough of your time, Mr. Graves,” Sirius says.

“Maybe you could show us to somewhere we can acquire accommodations,” Remus adds.

“Yes, of course,” Gellert says. “The exit is right this way. I’m sure you can find an open apartment that’s big enough for you, especially since the kids will be off at school for most of the year.”

He leads us out of the MACUSA building and over to an apartment complex.

“With Ilvermorny,” I say, “what other changes might there be?”

“It’s hard to say,” Remus says. “We’ll have to do some research.”

Sirius says, “Once we’ve gotten settled in here, I’m going to take a little trip back to Britain to check up on a few things. Like my family.” He makes a bit of a face, but it’s a necessary diversion to meet up with Cassie.

I make sure everyone has the linked journals we made up, especially if we’re going to be splitting up. It’s probably just as well that Tom and Cassie didn’t try to come back with anything but the clothes on their backs.

We rent a three-bedroom apartment and start settling in, and Sirius heads off. At least wizarding currency hasn’t changed significantly in the past several hundred years.

“We could just move all the furniture out of the main room and set up the tent inside,” I say.

Abraxas rolls his eyes. “Or we could just cast a few Undetectable Extension Charms on it and transfigure some beds.”

“I suppose,” I say.

“Best make sure that anyone who comes in here won’t notice anything too amiss,” Remus says. “Those charms could cover an apartment slightly bigger than physically possible for this space, but not if we put a mansion in here. Somebody will figure it out.”

“The point of those charms is that people _won’t_ notice unless you tell them,” Abraxas says. “If people realize it, you cast the thing wrong.”

“Is people not realizing that the space is enlarged really the most important part of the charm?” Hermione wonders.

“If there might be Muggles around, it is,” Abraxas says.

“The more extreme the modifications to the space, the more difficult it is to confound people into believing that it’s natural,” Remus argues. “There comes a point when it’s simpler to just exclude that effect.”

“Simpler for _you_ , perhaps,” Abraxas retorts.

“I’m sure it’s doable,” Hermione says.

“Guys, do we really need to argue about this?” I ask. “Why don’t you just settle it by seeing who can cast the best charms over the rooms in the apartment?”

The three of them look to one another and nod, and head back to get to work on their magic.

Later that evening, I spot Newt Scamander heading down the hallway along with the other woman I’d seen in the future whose name I didn’t catch, and what appears to be a Muggle man, judging by his aura.

“I’d like to meet Newt Scamander,” Luna says quietly. “I’ll bet he has the most fascinating stories.”

“By all means,” I say with a grin.

Bidding good day to the others, Luna and I head down the hallway to find the apartment Newt had gone into. I reach up and knock on the door. A blonde woman opens the door part of the way.

“Hello!” I say. “We’re your new neighbors. I’m Harry Potter, and this is Luna Lovegood.”

“We’re from the future,” Luna says brightly. “I wanted to meet Mr. Scamander. I’m a fan of his work.”

I snicker softly. So much for subtlety. The woman at the door looks puzzled. Her mind brushes up against mine lightly, and I let her take a peek if she wants. She ushers us inside.

“Did I hear that right?” Newt says. “You’re from the future?”

Luna nods. “We went to school with your grandson.” She rifles around through her bag and pulls out a copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. “Would you sign my book, Mr. Scamander? Please?”

Newt blinks and takes the book from her, peers at it and checks the date on it. “From the future, huh. Alright, I’m convinced. Also, sure, why not.” He pulls out a pen and signs his name inside the front cover, and hands it back to her.

“Aren’t you afraid of changing the past by telling us this?” says the other woman.

“Seeing as we came back with the intention of changing the past, any small shifts we might make are irrelevant,” I say. “And you might be able to help. But excuse me, we haven’t been properly introduced.”

“I’m Tina,” she says, then gestures to the blonde woman. “And this is my sister, Queenie.”

“Jacob Kowalski,” says the Muggle man. “And this isn’t the strangest thing I’ve heard today.”

“What did you come back in time to change?” Newt asks.

I take a deep breath. “To prevent an evil werewolf from effectively attaining godhood. He’s immortal in our time. Comes back to life whenever we kill him. We came back to before he was born in hopes of finding a way to wipe him from existence.”

I hadn’t exactly planned on telling anyone in this time that we’re from the future, but I’ll trust Luna’s whims. Might as well go along with this and see how things turn out.

“That… sounds serious,” Newt says. “I’m not sure what I can do to help, though. I have my own problems at the moment.”

I shake my head. “It won’t need to be immediate. It’ll be years before he’ll be born. The man in question will be born in 1933 in the city of Selenis.”

“Where’s Selenis?” Newt asks.

“Magical city in Maine?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

“There is no such place,” Tina says.

I groan softly. “I was afraid of that.”

“Alternate universe?” Luna says.

“Has to be,” I say. “Quick check here. Are werewolves infected with a disease, or born as such?”

“They’re born werewolves and have their First Change sometime around puberty,” Newt says. “The infection is just a superstition.”

“Okay, good, that’s one less thing that complicates what we’re looking for,” I say. “The first alternate universe I visited, lycanthropy actually _was_ a disease.”

“I suspected this was an alternate universe when I heard of Ilvermorny,” Luna says.

“What of Ilvermorny?” Tina asks.

“It doesn’t exist in our universe,” Luna says. “We were attending the Salem Witches’ Institute.”

“Which doesn’t exist,” Tina adds.

“Well, half a term there at least,” I say. “I attended Hogwarts for two years, but expelled myself. It’s complicated.”

“You blew up the Ministry of Magic,” Luna says lightly.

“Complicated,” I say, throwing up my hands.

“You’re actually thirteen?” Newt asks.

“No,” I say. “School was a good cover, though, and a good chance to relearn some things I’d forgotten due to amnesia.”

“I’m actually twelve,” Luna says.

“That’s the biggest thing we actually need right now, it seems,” I say. “Information.”

“Alright, well, what happens if you’ve wound up in an alternate universe where the city this werewolf was born in doesn’t exist?” Tina asks.

“I don’t know,” I say.

“He’ll have to be somewhere,” Luna says. “The universe won’t let him not exist. That’s why we have to tell the universe to make him not exist.”

“First we’ll need to figure out just how to do that, but that’s my job,” I say. “I’m the Time Mage here.”

“But in the meantime, we still have plenty of time to help you out with whatever trouble you’ve been having,” Luna says cheerfully.

“Are you preemptively volunteering?” I say.

“Well,” Newt says. “A number of magical beasts escaped from my suitcase and are loose in New York.”

“I’ll help!” Luna says, practically hopping in delight.

I grin. “Alright, Luna, have fun.”

When I get back to my apartment, I see Sirius has returned with Cassie in tow, along with a younger boy I don’t recognize, about eight or nine years old. I’m a little surprised to see Cassie looking close to the same age she was when we left, until I realize she looks even younger and that this was the age she actually was in this time frame.

“Hey, Cassie,” I say with a grin, then look to the boy. “And who’s this young man?”

“My brother, Marius,” Cassie says. “I insisted he come along. He’s a Squib, so they were happy to let him go.”

I turn to Sirius. “You didn’t run into any trouble, did you?”

Sirius shakes his head. “Not really. Between me and Cassie, we didn’t have much trouble convincing our family of our story.”

“You told them, too?” I ask. “Luna just told four people we’re from the future.”

“They would have seen through a lie,” Sirius says. “Also, the family tapestry displayed some very weird bloodlines when I arrived in this timeline. Like their newborn daughter having had a child with someone who hasn’t been born yet.”

“Poor, confused magic item,” I say, chuckling.

“You’re telling me,” Sirius says with a laugh. “They’ve decided to cover me by claiming I’m a cousin. Nobody outside the family will know the difference anyway if I’m not hanging around someplace where people who would have supposedly gone to school with me might wonder. Never thought I’d see my family so cooperative.”

“I’d imagine they thought it would benefit them somehow,” I say.

“Probably,” Sirius says.

“What’s going to happen with me?” Marius says tentatively.

“Well, what do you want to happen?” I ask.

“I want to go to school and learn about magic,” Marius replies.

“A Squib, you say?” I ask Cassie.

She nods. “They would have disowned him.”

“Well, no reason you can’t learn _something_ ,” I tell Marius. “Squibs can still make potions, use magic items, and work with magical beasts.”

“But not cast spells like everyone else?” Marius asks.

“Not everyone can cast spells,” I say. “Most people in the world can’t. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” I grin at him. “And most of those who can don’t really appreciate it. And who knows? Maybe I can still teach you a thing or two anyway.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Cassie says quietly.

“I would never,” I say.

What makes a person a Squib? I wonder. His aura feels strong, and I’d imagine he’s still Force sensitive, even if it won’t respond to his will. Well, it doesn’t matter. All he’s seen his life has been magic, and that it has been denied to him. I’ll show him something else, and teach him that magic isn’t the only power in the universe.

“Marius, dear boy,” I say, a grin broadening across my face. “Let me tell you about technology…”

“What’s… technology?” Marius wonders.

“You know all those things you’ve seen people use magic for?” I say. “You don’t actually need magic for most of them.”

“Really?” Marius raises an eyebrow. “How?”

I was already living in a relatively primitive time, in the future. Here, my resources are going to be even more limited. Technology in the other universe hadn’t changed significantly in thousands of years, so far as I could tell, but it also didn’t have to. I haven’t yet examined how the technology in this age compares to the previous era we’d visited, but from the history books I’ve read, the world made vast advancements in the past hundred years. I’m probably going to be stuck re-inventing the wheel again.

But perhaps I don’t have to do it alone, especially considering I have other things I need to be doing. If Marius is anything like his sister, he’s probably a clever boy who will take readily to whatever I have to teach him. Wizards have no motivation to learn anything that doesn’t require magic.

I regale him with tales of traveling the stars in great metal flying ships, and show him a few small devices I’d brought with me. I hadn’t had cause to make much, but I do have a lightsaber and a holocron, the latter of which I can use to show him many other things. Marius looks at them positively in awe.

“This is amazing,” Marius says. “You can teach me? I can actually do this?”

“Absolutely,” I say with a grin.


	12. Children of Time

“Nice work on the apartment, folks,” I say.

Three completely different styles have juxtaposed themselves into the furnishings and layout. The parts Abraxas worked on are elegant and even decadent in places, while Remus went with more warm and cozy furnishings. Hermione’s additions, on the other hand, are efficient and practical, and include a library with copies of many of the books we’d brought back with us. Apparently she’d found a way to circumvent copyright charms, the cunning girl.

Sirius has already gone off back to England in hopes of finding Tom’s mother, or at least the orphanage he mentioned that he would have been raised at.

Luna arrives back at the apartment, with Newt and Jacob in tow and seeming none the worse for wear. Well, there’s the first test of whether the extension charms that have been cast over the place are really undetectable.

“How’d things go?” I ask.

“Well enough,” Newt says. “We’ve gotten everything in order, back where it’s supposed to be, and we didn’t even destroy too many things in the process.”

“This apartment,” Jacob says, looking around. “It’s magical, isn’t it?”

“Agh,” Abraxas says, putting his face in his palm.

“I told you it was too much to cover up,” Remus says with a smirk.

“It was _your_ spells that weren’t cast properly,” Abraxas says.

“It was just a guess,” Jacob says. “Considering it looks more like a Victorian manor than a New York apartment.”

“That’s because _someone_ ,” Hermione looks at Abraxas, “didn’t stick with plausible interior design.”

Jacob chuckles. “So, what’s the future like? What have we got to look forward to? Anything to look out for?”

“There’ll be a stock market crash around 1930 or somewhere thereabouts, causing a Great Depression that’ll last a decade,” I say lightly. “I suggest being prepared for that.”

Jacob blinks. “Yeah, that’s… good to know.”

I grin at him. “Well, if you stick with us, you probably won’t really have to worry about it.”

Not the least of which because who knows what the world will look like after we’ve done what we’re here to do. We did come prepared, though, converting all of our future currency into valuables that we could exchange for past currency, even going so far as to empty the Potter and Black vaults for it. There weren’t any other Potters or Blacks to complain about it except for Bellatrix, who went along with it because Tom said so.

“The wizards in America have such absurd notions about Muggle relations,” Newt says. “They will insist that Jacob be Obliviated and forbid any further contact with him.”

“Just claim he’s a Squib,” Cassie suggests.

“A Squib?” Jacob repeats.

“Someone with magical blood who can’t do magic themselves,” Cassie says. “Like my brother here.”

“I’m going to learn about _technology_!” Marius says excitedly.

“He has to be a Squib,” Abraxas says. “Actual Muggles would not be able to take to magic so readily.”

“Right, of course,” Jacob says without missing a beat.

“We could always just go back to Britain,” Newt says.

“That might be a problem, given that most of us do not have proper records of our existence in this time frame,” Remus says.

“Not that we ever let that stop us,” I say.

“Nothing some Confundus Charms and memory alteration could not handle,” Abraxas says.

“Or just coming to an understanding with our families,” Cassie says.

“I’m Muggleborn,” Hermione says. “That’s not really an option for me.”

“That just means you have no records of your existence in the wizarding world anyway,” Abraxas says.

“ _You_ could always claim to be Muggleborn, too, then,” Hermione replies.

Abraxas works up his face in a distasteful expression as he seems to actually consider this. “No. I look too much like a Malfoy. I would most likely have to claim to be an illegitimate child.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Our most likely leads on Fenrir Greyback’s birthplace are here. Selenis doesn’t exist in this timeline, but Luna insists that he’ll have to be born _somewhere_ , hopefully still in 1933.”

“Is there a Greyback family you can look for?” Jacob suggests.

I blink and put my face in my palm. “Why did I not even consider this? Okay, Jacob! You’re now appointed to the job of pointing out the obvious, because we’re idiots.”

“He’s a Shadow Lord,” Remus says. “We may be able to get in touch with his tribe, at least. Do you have the name of his mother?”

“Freya,” I reply.

“He’s homid.” Remus looks to Jacob and explains, “That is, his parents were a human and a werewolf, as opposed to two werewolves or a wolf and a werewolf.” Remus goes on, “Freya is the human, kinfolk most likely.” Remus explains, “Humans related to werewolves who aren’t werewolves themselves.”

“I don’t know her last name,” I say. “I’m really hoping the Shadow Lords keep decent records of their kinfolk.”

“What about his father?” Jacob says. “The werewolf. The one who might actually be named Greyback.”

“Adrian,” I say.

“That gives us something to go on, at least,” Hermione says. “Unless his _parents_ are different in this timeline as well as his birthplace.”

I groan. “I don’t want to think about that just yet. Let’s try to find Freya and Adrian Greyback first and failing that, take into account more annoying possibilities.”

“You might have trouble looking into those if you look like children,” Newt points out. “Especially during the school year.”

“We were planning on going to Ilvermorny,” I say.

“What about this search you mentioned?” Newt asks.

“Remus and Sirius will be looking into it in the meantime,” I say. “Remus should be able to handle the werewolf side of it.”

“Being a werewolf myself,” Remus says, then looks to Newt and Jacob. “I do hope you’re not skittish about that.”

Jacob snorts in amusement. “You’re far more polite than some of Newt’s pets who have given us no end of trouble this past week.”

“Meanwhile, those of us who look like children are going to be trying to develop the spell we’ll use to erase him from time,” I say. “I do hope Ilvermorny has a library or other available resources to help, but even if not, we just need some time to figure it out. Someone in the future gave us a head start in the form of a spell that’s currently _way_ too complex for us to cast just yet, that destroys someone’s soul.”

“That sounds like a terrible power to have in the hands of anyone,” Newt says. “Like a Dementor?”

“I don’t know if that’s what Dementors do or not,” I say. “I never wanted to actually test that. Regardless, she made us swear an Unbreakable Vow never to use it unless the universe is at stake and all other options have been exhausted.”

“Understandable,” Newt says. “I wonder what would compel someone to create such a spell in the first place, though.”

“Probably a situation like ours,” I say. “Desperation against someone who refused to stay dead. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.”

“Considering her background, her purposes may have been originally less savory,” Abraxas says.

“Or she just created it as an exercise to prove that she could,” Hermione suggests.

“Well, Suzy’s not here to ask, hasn’t even been born yet in this timeline, but I’m not sure that I would want to regardless,” I say. “Newt, Jacob, would you two be willing to help track down Fenrir Greyback?”

“Certainly,” Newt says. “This definitely sounds like a serious situation.”

“What could I do?” Jacob asks.

“You know your way around the Muggle world,” I say. “I won’t discount that as an option to find information. If Freya is kinfolk, she may not even be magical at all beyond that. She may be living among Muggles. Or, well, No-Majs as they seem to call them on this side of the pond.”

“I would prefer that an evil werewolf not take over the world,” Jacob says. “So I’ll do what I can.”

“Great,” I say. I pull out two journals and hand them to them. “These journals are linked together with ours. If you write in them, all of us will be able to read it.”

“That’s handy,” Jacob says, looking his over and opening it. “It’s blank. Does it not work for me?”

“Oh yeah, you have to tap it with your wand – er, finger, I suppose, and say ‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good.’” I smirk. “That password was Sirius’ idea. Inside joke, as it were.”

“Wouldn’t want just anyone reading it,” Remus says.

“Of course,” Jacob says. He taps it with his finger and says, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” Words spread across the page. “Huh. It _does_ work for me.”

“You designed it so that Muggles could use it?” Newt asks.

“Certainly,” I say. “I’m not racist.”

“Surprising, is all,” Newt says.

I give Jacob a pen, and he writes a line in the journal. I open my own, and see the words, “My name is Jacob Kowalski,” have appeared. I nod to him and grin.

“Does Ilvermorny have Houses like Hogwarts?” Hermione asks.

“I don’t know,” Newt says. “I went to Hogwarts. You could ask Tina and Queenie, though.”

“I’ll do that,” Hermione says.

* * *

“Yes, there are four Houses, like Hogwarts,” Tina says. “Wampus, Pukwudgie, Horned Serpent, and Thunderbird.”

“They’re named after creatures?” Luna says.

Tina nods. “You’ll get sorted when you come in. It’s unusual to join in the middle of a school year. Or were you planning on waiting until next fall?”

I shrug. “Not much sense in waiting. Some of us are obviously older than eleven.”

“Normally, you wouldn’t be given a wand until you were already sorted,” Tina says. “But considering you attended Hogwarts for a few years, I’m sure they’d make an exception in your case. Still, it’s not allowed for underage wizards to carry a wand outside of school. You’re supposed to leave it at school.”

I scowl. “I am not surrendering my wand.”

“Considering your… unique circumstances, and the fact that you’re apparently not actually a child, I can’t blame you,” Tina says.

“We could let them give us a second wand and leave _that_ at school,” Abraxas suggests.

“We didn’t actually register our wands when we were at the MACUSA building,” I say with a smirk. “And since they weren’t made in this time frame, there won’t be any record of those, either.”

“And that’s why I told you we shouldn’t register them,” Abraxas says. “I do not trust them.”

“That’s a bit paranoid,” Tina says.

“We’re a lot paranoid,” I say.

“We don’t know whether Jez’kai had allies who would have been alive in this time, either,” Remus says.

“Do you think we could come in as first years?” I ask. “Could we pass as eleven-year-olds?”

“Some of you, sure,” Tina says. “Some of you look to be, what, fourteen? Fifteen?”

“Thirteen,” I say with a sigh. “It would be so much easier if I could just change my apparent age at will.”

“Ah, Harry?” Tina says. “You just changed your apparent age at will.”

I blink. “Oh.”

“You mentioned that in your stories,” Remus says. “That you’d learned how to do that.”

“Sometimes it hardly seems real to me, either,” I say. “And sometimes I remember only that I did something and not how I did it.”

After some careful practice, Hermione manages to duplicate the feat. It turns out to be much simpler than the ritual we used to restore Cassie’s youth, probably because the magic considers them to be a part of me now.

“If you can change your appearance, you wouldn’t need to go to Ilvermorny to keep your cover,” Tina says. “You could just look like adults and go about your business.”

“We still need to learn and study, though,” I say. “And some of us actually _are_ the age they appear to be. Luna and Hermione never finished Hogwarts.”

“And the reason you don’t just tell MACUSA and let them help you?” Tina says.

“Do you really need to ask that?” I say. “I don’t know about MACUSA, but in my time, the British Ministry of Magic was literally corrupted. They were working for the very people we’re trying to fight. Also experimenting with summoning malicious spirits and forcefully possessing people. I only wish I were exaggerating here.”

“The Rotfang Conspiracy,” Luna puts in.

“Right, I can see why you want this to be known to as few people as possible, then,” Tina says, making a face.

“Exactly,” I say. “We’ll be less conspicuous at school, and people are less likely to think anything of a bunch of apparent children. Developing the spell is important, and since we can do that anywhere, we might as well do it somewhere safe.”

“We could simply find Calarey in this time and hide out there, if that is all that we need to do,” Abraxas says. “I, for one, am not looking forward to returning to school as much as some of you are.”

“I have no idea what might be there in this time,” I say.

“I’ll bet they teach different things as at Ilvermorny than they do at Hogwarts,” Hermione says. “This could be an incredible learning opportunity. Even you might have something to learn there.”

Abraxas grumbles. “Fine, you have a point. It would be most convenient if we could manage to wind up in the same House again, though.”

“That might be tricky,” Tina says. “You probably won’t have much say in it.”

“I am still uncertain how I all of us managed to get into Slytherin at Hogwarts,” Abraxas says, glancing sidelong at Hermione.

I chuckle. “You know, I spent a lot of time loops trying to fuck with the Hogwarts sorting in my year. Seeing how much I could screw it up in the two months’ time I had before then.”

“How did you manage that?” Abraxas wonders. “I would have thought that people’s values and motivations would not change that much in that small period of time.”

“People are often readily suitable to more than one house,” I say. “And all it takes is a little nudge to change it. Would you believe that Hermione here could have wound up in Gryffindor?”

“I disbelieve,” Abraxas says, folding his arms across his chest. “I would have expected Ravenclaw.”

“I _did_ want to be in Gryffindor originally, though,” Hermione says. “But what Draco said to me on the train made me rethink things.”

“Draco?” Abraxas says, raising an eyebrow. “Not Harry?”

Hermione nods. “Draco.”

I grin crookedly. “I just convinced Draco to quit being a little prat. He took it from there.”

“I doubt you will have as easy a time,” Tina says. “There’s a place you need to stand to get sorted, with images of the four House creatures. Which one reacts to you, chooses you, determines which House you will be in.”

“What criteria do they base this on?” Hermione wonders.

“I’m really not sure,” Tina says.

“We could test it,” Hermione says.

“How?” Abraxas wonders.

“Reset the day repeatedly and see if we can make it change,” Hermione says.

“You can do that?” Tina asks.

I groan. “You know, time travel is not a toy.”

“I don’t see any reason why we _shouldn’t_ do things like this,” Hermione says. “We have the unique opportunity to repeat tests that would otherwise not be possible to repeat. This isn’t just _playing_ with it. This is using it for the sake of gathering information and gaining knowledge.”

“Would we even be able to change the sorting in the span of a few hours?” I wonder.

“We won’t know unless we try,” Hermione says. “It might well be based on what you’re thinking about at the time, in which case, we’ll be able to find that out.”

“We are all insane,” Abraxas mumbles.

“I think this is an excellent idea,” Cassie says. “And I think we should take more advantage of Time Magic than we have been doing. Hermione’s right about that.”

“Do you seriously want to do this?” I ask. “Is this a path we really want to take?”

“Much as I hate to admit it,” Remus says, “we’re going to have to use every tool at our disposal if we want to be able to combat Jez’kai. If we’re successful in altering time, it won’t matter anymore. If we weren’t facing such a catastrophic threat, I might question it.”

“I don’t want to get into the habit of casually throwing away timelines and resetting to change anything slightly bad that might happen,” I say. “But I’ll acknowledge your point.” I glance over to Luna. “You’ve been quiet. What do you think about all this?”

Luna looks pensive for a long moment, examining me with a distant gaze that almost seems to go right through me. “I don’t think you’re the sort who would go mad with power, abuse your magic, and stop caring about other people.”

“That’s reassuring,” I say, giving her a faint grin. “But what about Hermione and Cassie’s proposals?”

Luna stares off again, then replies, “Yes.”

“That’s it?” I say. “Yes?”

Luna nods. “I don’t think Hawke, Ducky, or Padfoot would argue, either.” She grins. “Hawke will probably sigh in exasperation and wonder why we haven’t already been doing this.”

“More time travelers?” Tina says.

“Yeah,” I say. “They came back with us and they’re off taking care of some very important things themselves. Well, more specifically, Sirius is trying to find Tom’s mother, since Tom hasn’t actually been born yet.”

“That… has to get confusing,” Tina says.

“You have no idea,” I say.

* * *

Ultimately, we decide to hold off until the start of the next school year to avoid arousing any undue attention, and to spend the intervening months doing research and familiarizing ourselves with the time and society, both Muggle and magical, and on both sides of the pond.

We hear nothing from Sirius until Christmas day, until words appear in my journal stating, “I found her, but I think I scared her off. Could I get a reset, or should I try to track her down again?”

Abraxas looks at it and says, “Do it. Reset as many times as necessary. And if Sirius cannot manage it, one of us can try. We may not get another chance to catch her before she dies.”

I look back at him for a long moment before nodding tersely. This was already the sort of thing we agreed upon, but I’d still hesitate on it if it weren’t so important. I direct a bit of lightning inward to force a reset.

It takes several tries, and Abraxas makes an attempt, and then Remus, before we decide she might respond better to a woman and send Cassie. Cassie’s gentle demeanor calms Merope Gaunt down and convinces her to come back with her to the Black manor.

“How’d you get them to take her in?” I ask Sirius when he returns.

“Told them the truth,” Sirius says with a shrug. “They already knew about the time travel thing anyway, so they believed me when I told them she was the last descendant of Slytherin’s line and that her son would be the greatest wizard of his generation.”

“I’m surprised you’d admit that, of Voldemort,” I say.

Sirius smirks. “I may not have liked everything he did, but I’d be a fool not to acknowledge that he’s powerful. And it’s not like I hate him anymore.”

Once Tom is born, I go over to London to see him, and once we’re in private, he ages himself up to speak with me.

“Thank you,” Tom says.

“Don’t thank me,” I say. “Thank Cassie and Sirius.”

Tom chuckles. “I’ll thank them later, but don’t pretend you didn’t have any part in this.”

“You can thank me now,” says Cassie, coming into the room and grinning. “And you’re welcome.” She looks like a young woman right now, perhaps in her early twenties. No doubt she felt Merope would react better to a woman rather than a little girl.

“Where’d Sirius find her, anyway?” I ask.

“Knockturn Alley,” Cassie replies. “She was going to sell Slytherin’s locket at Borgin and Burkes.”

“Well, at least you’ve been born now, and figured out how to change your age at will,” I say. “Do you want to come to America with us or stay here?”

“I’ll stay,” Tom says. “There is research to be done here, and I will have access to the Black libraries.”

“At least you don’t have to pretend to be a baby, then,” I say.

“I don’t have to pretend,” Tom says. “But I think I would prefer to be a child most of the time.”

“Why?” I wonder.

Tom goes over to the window and leans against the windowsill, looking off distantly. “Because I never had the chance, before. I never knew my mother. I never knew a family. I never had a real childhood.”

I’m quiet for a moment before nodding, although he can’t see it with his back turned to me. “Alright,” I say. “You only have maybe six and a half years, though.”

“It’s enough,” Tom says. “I will be aware the whole time, after all, and not simply forget everything due to being too young to remember.”

“That’s true, I suppose,” I say.

“I may use this Time Magic to speed up my growth rate a little, though,” Tom says. “I will still need to age myself up whenever I wish to do research, though.”

“What if your mother walks in and discovers you like that, though?” I wonder.

“Then I will tell her the truth,” Tom says.

“I could explain it to her right now,” Cassie suggests.

Tom sighs. “I did not wish to deprive her of having a child.”

“She still has a child,” I say. “Just let her know that this child has mysterious time-related powers and that she can skip potty training.”

Tom chuckles. “I suppose it would be best that she find out as soon as possible and not be surprised by it. But let us not tell her that I am from the future just yet.”

“Come on,” Cassie says. “I’ll explain it to her.”

Tom nods, and concentrates for a moment, slowly aging himself down into the form of an infant. It requires care and precision to reach an age that young without overshooting the mark, and as it is, I think he winds up looking a bit older than a newborn. Close enough, and it will have to do, I suppose. Cassie picks him up in her arms, and we head out down the hallway.

Merope is in the kitchen, eating a large meal prepared for her by the house-elves. She still looks under-nourished, and I have to wonder how bad it was when we found her. She smiles as we come in. “Thank you for looking after him.”

“It’s not a problem,” Cassie says. “In fact, I’ve been examining his aura and noticed something very interesting.”

“Oh?” Merope says.

“It seems like he has some sort of innate Time Magic,” Cassie says. “That’s very rare, and he’ll likely wind up using it unconsciously without realizing what he’s doing. Look at him! He already looks like he’s a month old.”

“Oh my,” Merope says. “My little Tom is very special, it seems. Did you notice anything else?”

“He’s a Parselmouth, of course, but that’s to be expected of his lineage,” Cassie says. “I could swear I heard him hissing baby talk already.” She grins.

“That’s wonderful!” Merope exclaims in delight. “Maybe you could find my husband. Maybe if he saw his beautiful son, he would change his mind and come back to me.”

Cassie sighs. “I don’t know if that would be the best idea.”

Merope’s face falls. “Surely he didn’t mean it. Surely he really loved me…”

“Merope…” Cassie says gently. “These things happen. But your life is worth more than one man. Let him go. You don’t need him. You’re a strong woman.”

“Do you really think so?” Merope says quietly.

“Absolutely,” Cassie says. “And don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”


	13. Follow the Moon

Popping between continents gets tiresome, but it’s a necessary drain for some of the things we need to do. I haven’t yet tried Apparating to somewhere I haven’t been in this universe, though, and I’m a little nervous about trying.

Sirius scoffs at my nervousness. “I got to London just fine.”

“You probably went to someplace that hasn’t changed much,” I say. “What if we tried going somewhere we _know_ has changed, or even doesn’t exist in this time?”

“Worst that can happen is you splinch yourself and die horribly,” Sirius says brightly.

I groan. “You know, dying horribly hurts.”

“ _I_ can try it, if that’s all you’re afraid of,” Abraxas says.

“Selenis and the Salem Witches’ Institute are warded against Apparation anyway,” I point out.

“We could just try driving there,” Remus says.

“Excellent idea,” I say.

Remus uses some of the money we’d gotten from pawning off future valuables to purchase an automobile. When he returns to the apartment with said automobile, however, I just have to look at it dubiously. It’s boxy and inefficient, and I just have to question whether it would be sufficient.

“We’ll have to spell it not to require petrol and expand the interior,” Remus says.

“Leave that to me,” Abraxas says.

Remus snorts softly. “No, I think I’ll do it. At least I know something about how automobiles work so I can make those changes again. After all, I did the same for the last two cars.”

“Besides, the last time you tried expanding something, it came out as a Victorian manor,” Sirius adds.

“My adjustments were perfectly acceptable,” Abraxas insists.

Once Remus has gotten the spells on the car put up, he, Luna, and I pile in to take a trip on the road. First we drive over to Salem and take a look around, driving down the streets near where Suzy’s school once and might have stood. We don’t find anything. If there is or was ever a school here, it’s better hidden than any of our senses can penetrate.

“I think it’s simply not here,” Remus says. “Luna, do you see anything?”

“Plenty of things, but not what we’re looking for,” Luna replies.

“It’s probably fair to say that it just doesn’t exist in this time frame,” I say. “Especially since Tina didn’t know anything about it, either.”

“I’ll do another circle of the area, then shall we head up to Maine?” Remus says. “It’s possible that Selenis may exist and may be hidden from the local wizards as well. Shapeshifters have always been distrustful of mages.”

I nod. “Let’s. I’ve still got the tent with me, so if we wind up spending the rest of the day driving around the countryside, we won’t have to spend all night driving back.”

Remus chuckles. “We could as easily spend several days trying to find it, and unless they want to be found, we won’t have any luck with it. However, us being shapeshifters ourselves might help.”

“Let’s stop by the location of the Thunderbird Resort on the way there,” I say.

“Good idea,” Remus says. “I don’t know if the casino would have been built yet, but the Indians should certainly still be there.”

When we arrive at the location, there’s werewolves there alright. Werewolves who don’t trust us and don’t want us nearby at all, even when we reveal that we’re shapeshifters. We decide to leave before it devolves into violence. We came here for information and possibly to make allies, after all, and while honorable duels might do that, they don’t look like it’s an honorable duel they’re after.

“We have to respect their territory,” Remus says with a sigh as we get back into the car.

“They were certainly friendlier in the future,” I say.

“It’s not too surprising that relations changed in the intervening years,” Remus says. “But I was still hoping they’d welcome fellow shapeshifters nonetheless. I didn’t realize how strained relations between the tribes were. I’d known it distantly, historically, but seeing it up front like this is a bit jarring..”

I look aside to Luna as we drive off. “To think that, of all the places in time and space we could have gone, we came here and now.”

“It’s when we needed to be,” Luna says.

“How much longer until I’m finally free of that need?” I murmur, then shake my head. “We’re here for now. Let’s make the most of it.”

We wind up spending over a week driving around Maine, going back and forth over the back roads, and setting up camp every night, without finding any trace of Selenis. One morning, as we’re packing up, an older man approaches us.

“You’re not supposed to be camping out here, you know,” he says.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t realize,” Remus says.

“Especially with your kids, and in the middle of winter?” the man says. “There’s a place in town if you and the kids need somewhere safe to stay. You’d best move along, though.”

Wait a minute. We put up Muggle Repelling Charms before we set up camp here and haven’t taken them down yet. This man is _not_ a Muggle. I peer at him and examine his aura. Definitely not a Muggle. _Bright_ , like a shapeshifter.

“We didn’t mean to intrude,” I say. “We didn’t realize this land belonged to another Garou.”

The man – _werewolf_ squints at us. “What tribe are you? What are your names?”

“My name is Moony,” Remus says. “I’m a Bone Gnawer.”

He snorts softly. “Of course you are. Trust a Bone Gnawer to be homeless. Perceptive kid, though.”

“I’m not really a kid,” I say, shifting into an adult form. “It’s just a disguise. My name is the Stormseeker. And I’m a Glass Walker.”

“What are _you_ doing out here?” the werewolf wonders.

“My name is Luna. And I don’t have a tribe yet, but they’re my packmates, so I’m with them either way.”

“We’ve given you our names and tribes,” I say. “You could return the favor. A courtesy. Then we’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

He grunts. “Doubts-the-Moon. Fianna.”

I center myself and reach out with the Force to see if I can sense any sign of Dark Side corruption, or Wyrm taint, whichever, but he comes up clean. I glance aside at Luna and ask quietly, “Think we can trust him?”

Luna seems to look right through Doubts-the-Moon and says, “He’s alright. He’s not Wyrm-tainted.”

“You’re hunting Wyrm creatures?” Doubts asks.

I nod. “It’s complicated. But essentially, yes. Black Spiral Dancers. And we’re not sure who we can trust at this point.”

“ _I’m_ no Black Spiral Dancer,” Doubts insists, putting his hands up defensively.

“I didn’t accuse you of that,” I say. “But I’m sure you can understand our need for caution.”

“We so far haven’t gotten a very good reception from the local Garou, nonetheless,” Remus adds.

“Ugh, you probably ran into some Uktena or something,” Doubts says. “They’re not too fond of us European shapeshifters.”

“I noticed,” Remus says.

Doubts runs a hand through his sandy hair. “Alright, look, you can come inside and get a cup of coffee and tell me all about it, but this had better be important.”

He has us park the car closer to the farmhouse and leads us inside.

A woman whose red hair is streaked with gray, wearing an apron, looks out of the kitchen as we file into the dining room. “Oh, you’ve brought guests, Shawn?”

Doubts nods. “Garou business, Maggie. We got any of that coffee still hot?”

“We do,” Maggie says. As we settle at the table, she brings out three cups of coffee, and a glass of milk for Luna.

“Alright, folks,” Doubts leans back in his chair. “Tell me everything.”

“We’re from the future,” Luna says. “We came back in time to stop a Black Spiral Dancer.”

“I was going to say that it’s complicated and a long story, but Luna saved me the trouble,” I say, chuckling.

“I’m going to need more than coffee if we’re going to be talking about _time travel_ ,” Doubts says. “But Maggie would skin me if I even thought about drinking at this time of the morning.”

“I thought alcohol was illegal in this time period,” Remus says.

“Pfah, like those politicians are going to keep an old Fianna from his booze,” Doubts says.

“We brought firewhiskey,” Luna says cheerfully.

I obligingly bring out a case from my pocket and set it on the table. “Vintage 1992.”

“So you believe us?” Remus asks.

“Sonny, if you’ve got another case of that in your pocket, I’ll believe you’re the King of England and the little girl’s the Pope.” He chuckles as he pulls out a bottle to examine it. “I’ve seen enough weird things in my time not to immediately discount anything, no matter how strange it sounds, just because it’s outside my experience.” He pops the top off and takes a drink. “Saw a cub once who insisted until he was blue in the face that ghosts don’t exist, up until he wound up dead because of a particularly nasty specter.”

We take some time to fill him in on what we know and what we’re looking for, and just _why_ Jez’kai is such a problem in the future.

“You’re saying this bastard kept coming back to life like nothing happened?” Doubts says. “Now that’s fucked up.”

I nod grimly. “Cut off his damned head once myself, and I _know_ he didn’t resurrect in _that_ body.”

“Fucked up, I tell you.” Doubts takes another drink of firewhiskey. “You folks Irish?”

“Welsh,” I say. “But there were a few Fianna at our Sept.”

“Welsh, huh,” Doubts grunts. “Sure, why not.”

It’s easier to say that I’m Welsh, rather than that I’m from the future of an alternate universe of a different planet. If I say I’m Welsh, people just get bored and don’t ask anymore questions.

“I’ve got his year of birth, the names of his parents, and where he was born,” I say. “Unfortunately… we’re having trouble finding his birthplace, as you might have noticed. Some things may have changed when we went back, and we may have wound up in a slightly different alternate universe.”

“Where was he born?” Doubts asks. “Or will be. Whichever.”

“Selenis,” I say. “In the future, it’s this big, hidden city inland on the coast.” I smirk.

“Selenis,” Doubts repeats thoughtfully. “You know, it’s like they say around here. You can’t get there from here.”

“You mean it _does_ exist in this time?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Doubts chuckles. “Maybe not as you remember it, but it definitely exists. You could’ve kept driving around in circles ’till the sun burns out without finding it, though. Bet things have changed in the future, ’cuz right now, it won’t let cars get near it.”

I groan. “Maybe we didn’t wind up in such a different alternate universe after all.”

“There are still some differences,” Luna says.

“We still don’t know what to expect,” Remus says.

“Doubts-the-Moon, the one we seek will be born in 1933 to Freya and Adrian Greyback,” I say. “We’ll need to be there when he’s born or as soon after as possible. If Gaia wills it, we will ensure that he never existed.”

“And what about you?” Doubts says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“After you’ve done this deed, what are you going to do?” Doubts asks. “Return to the future? Will it still be there when you’re done?”

“I really haven’t planned that far,” I say. “And I don’t think it’s something we can plan. We may not even survive the attempt, and if we do, the future will likely be unrecognizable. I’ll worry about that when it comes to it. Wondering what to do with my life, at this point, seems like a problem I’d dearly love to have.”

Doubts chuckles. “How’d you get back, anyway? Some new Glass Walker contraption, or did Gaia herself guide you back?”

“A gift of my own,” I explain. “And one I hope I don’t have to use again if we miss our window of opportunity.”

“That’s some gift,” Doubts says.

“Shawn, you’re not drinking before noon again, are you?” says a voice from the kitchen. Maggie pokes her head in and sighs. “Shawn…” She glances to the rest of us accusingly.

“Right, maybe you’d best be off,” Doubts says to us with a smirk. “As for where you’re going… Take to your paws and follow the moon.” He chuckles. “I’ll make sure nobody messes with your car.”

“Thank you,” I say, draining the rest of my coffee and standing up.

We head outside and look to the east. The crescent moon is probably starting to rise, soon if not already, but it’s hard to get a good view of it from here. Remus transforms into a large, furry werewolf and sniffs at the air.

“Hopefully it’ll be enough for _you_ to find it and us to follow you,” I say.

“We’ll see,” Remus says. “Let’s go, and see if we can catch a glimpse of the moon.”

“Those directions were really terrible,” I say, following after him as he heads off. “Why couldn’t he just have said ‘go east on foot’?”

“We can’t get there from here,” Luna says. “So we have to go from here to nowhere and from there the moon will lead us there.”

“That makes no sense whatsoever,” I say. “Not that getting to the coast by driving inland made sense, either.”

We catch a glimpse of the crescent moon hanging in the morning sky just above the horizon, and keeping it fixed firmly in our sights, we set our feet in that direction. As we travel, inexplicably the sky begins to grow darker and the stars fade into view overhead. Our surroundings slowly change into a wild, shadowy forest, but at no point does that bright silver crescent stop being visible.

“We’re traveling on the edge of the Umbra,” Luna says quietly.

“Of course,” I say. “No wonder we couldn’t find it. They had to have radically changed its defenses in the future. Or in the other universe. Whichever.”

I’ve shifted back into the form of a teenager. At first glance, I might just be a cub who hasn’t made his First Change yet. I’d rather not have someone demand to see that I can turn into a werewolf and not be able to do, although I really doubt anyone would do that.

Then ahead of us, out of the darkness, pinpricks of light appear like fairy lamps strung up from the branches. A small village, very rustic, nothing like the bustling city we saw in the future, but definitely a town at least. A handful of metis cubs, like large, curious furry children, come up to sniff us curiously.

“We’re here,” I breathe.

“Hello there, little guys,” Luna says, patting a cub who is as big as she is. These metis cubs are by no means ‘little’, and would only be considered such when compared to one of the full-grown werewolves.

I look around, trying to memorize the details of the place so that I might be able to Apparate here again later, and more immediately, to figure out just _where_ I might be. Is this the Umbra? Where else would it be night as the new crescent moon is rising? Maybe I should just ask.

“What’s this?” says an old woman, approaching us. “A stranger, and you’ve brought some young cubs to us?” Her hair is a shock of white, pulled back into a ponytail from her stern, bronze face.

“I’m Moony, and the cubs are Harry and Luna. I’m just glad I could find you. This is the first friendly caern I’ve encountered since arriving on this side of the world.” Remus pauses. “I do hope that it’s friendly. I won’t let any harm come to these cubs.”

“Of course,” she says. “So long as you mean no harm, you are welcome here. I am Changer-of-Minds.”

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that,” I say.

They have no idea what will be borne into their midst. They cannot anticipate the betrayal of Fenrir Greyback when he dances the Black Spiral and becomes Jez’kai. How did that go, in the previous timeline, I wonder? And did it have anything to do with why the city is so different and the defenses changed?

Did going up against Jez’kai and his Black Spiral Dancers actually cause werewolves and wizards, elves and vampires, to band together? I could only wish the same had happened in Britain, instead of everyone being driven apart. Maybe that last could be blamed on Voldemort – or the Ministry. Tom had been trying to work with Jez’kai and the Black Spiral Dancers. Maybe that had biased wizards against all werewolves.

But can I trust Changer-of-Minds with the whole truth of what we’re doing here? I’m not even sure I could trust Doubts-the-Moon. Even if someone isn’t Wyrm-corrupted or the like, that doesn’t mean that telling them things would help. That doesn’t mean that bad things won’t happen if I tell the wrong person. And the more people who know, the greater the chance that the wrong person will hear nonetheless.

In the end, though, there’s one person’s judgment I still have faith in. “Luna, what do you think?”

Luna smiles dreamily at me. “I think you should relax.”

I chuckle. “Probably.”

“Enjoy the night,” Luna says.

“But it’s morning,” I reply with a crooked grin.

“It’s morning somewhere,” Luna says brightly.

I approach Changer-of-Minds, Luna following along closely behind me. At least now we know how to get here. If something goes terribly wrong here, our conversations with these werewolves will never have happened and they won’t remember a thing. However, Hermione’s idea of testing things by repeating them only works if the results are apparent immediately or within a few hours. If the effects of our actions aren’t visible for a few days, then we’re out of luck. We still need to be careful.

“Changer-of-Minds,” I say quietly. “I am the Stormseeker of the Glass Walkers. I need to speak with you on a vital matter.”

Changer looks at me for a long moment, then nods tersely. “Come. Let us go inside and sit down, then.”

She leads us off into one of the nearby buildings. Although it looks rough and rustic from the outside, it’s really quite comfortable. I could see myself living in a place like this. Then again, I could see myself living just about anywhere even remotely defensible. Luna and I take seats across from Changer around a kitchen table. I’m not sure where Remus got himself off to. Probably exploring the surroundings and making her friends, I’d imagine.

“So, Stormseeker,” Changer says. “What is this about? You say the Glass Walkers sent you?”

“Well, it’s complicated and a long story, so I’ll let Luna explain,” I say with a smirk. “She’s better at summarizing. I’d turn it into an epic and we’d be here for a week.”

“Don’t discount your storytelling, Stormseeker,” Luna says. “We may yet sorely need it.”

We explain to Changer-of-Minds in detail where and when we came from, why we are here, and what we are trying to stop.

“A child who has not been born yet may cause great strife and sorrow in the future,” Changer says thoughtfully. “Is there no alternative to what you propose? His path is absolutely set, and there is no way to avert this fate?”

I sigh. “There are always choices. But this one would have taken from us the power of choice and destroyed everything we are.”

“He has not yet done any of those things,” Changer says. “Would you judge him based on things he has yet to do and may yet never do?”

“Normally, I would debate that,” I say. “Normally, I would agree with you. And normally, I would not even consider doing something like this. But this one has done something terrible to time itself, and brought his immortality back with him. I don’t know how he did this. I didn’t believe it would even have been possible. But I saw that future. I cannot allow it to come to pass. Even the _possibility_ of it coming to pass would be catastrophic. Because if happens in one timeline… we will no longer have a choice. It will affect every timeline.”

“This is a serious accusation,” Changer says. “Can you be certain of this?”

“No,” I say with a sigh. “This is pure speculation on my part, based on some things shown to me by ones greater than me.”

“Could this one not still be guided from this path?” Changer asks. “Could he not still be redeemed.”

I lean back and close my eyes. “I wish. I _wish_.”

“If you wish it enough, could it not be possible?” Changer asks.

I wipe my eyes. “I do not wish this sort of thing to be even necessary. I’d like to think there are always choices, there are always other possibilities. But I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what might happen. What _will_ happen. What _already did_ happen. I can’t – I can’t –”

Luna puts her hand on my arm reassuringly.

“Perhaps there _is_ another choice,” Changer says. “Perhaps you can find a way to destroy that future without destroying the child, the man who will be Fenrir Greyback. The man who could be Jez’kai, but may not be.”

“How?” I whisper raggedly.

“I cannot tell you that,” Changer says. “I am not the one with the Gift of Time. But in this, perhaps you should seek the guidance of Luna, the moon. She may have answers for you. She may have another way.”

“And if she doesn’t?” I ask quietly. “If she can’t give me a better option?”

Changer shakes her head. “Then you must do as you must.”

“I’ll try,” I say, looking down. “Before I devote years to figuring out a way to do this, I will see if there is another way.”

Changer pauses for a moment, before asking, “What does it mean, to seek the storm?”

“I don’t rightly know what was meant when that name was given to me,” I say. “I do have lightning-related powers.”

“Perhaps it is not that you are seeking a storm, but that you are a storm that is seeking,” Changer says.

“I never looked at it like that before,” I say. “Well, this storm is definitely seeking, then. Always seeking.” I look up. “How do I seek the moon’s guidance?”

“Take to your paws and follow the moon,” Changer says.

I sigh. “But I don’t have paws.”

“You say you are a Glass Walker,” Changer says. “You are a shapeshifter, are you not?”

“Yes, but I’m not a werewolf,” I say.

“Then what manner of shapeshifter are you, that you do not have paws?” Changer asks. “A Corax?”

“I’m a dragon,” I say.

“Strange to see one of your kind mingling amongst us Garou, then, but very well,” Changer says. “Then take to your wings and seek the moon.”

“But –” I put my face in my palm. When dealing with spiritual matters, it’s clearly not the place to discuss how it’s impossible to fly out of the atmosphere on dragon wings to reach the lunar orbit. I’m not seeking the literal moon. I’m seeking the spirit of the moon. And that involves traveling the Umbra, not outer space.

“He has forgotten how to fly,” Luna says.

“Ah,” Changer says, as if that explains everything.

“I see you found your way here alright,” says a man’s voice from the door.

I look over to see Doubts-the-Moon standing in the doorway, and grunt in amusement. “Did you manage to escape Maggie’s wrath?”

“Yep,” Doubts says. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Just discussing how to handle the situation we discussed,” I say. “Changer-of-Minds believes I should consult the spirit of the moon before committing to drastic action.”

Doubts frowns. “I don’t see how ol’ Luna will tell you any differently. If you’ve gotta wipe him out of time itself, then so be it. One less Black Spiral Dancer in the world to deal with.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say, Doubts-the-Moon,” Changer says. “Fenrir Greyback hasn’t even been born yet. Who are we to say that this must be his fate? The future might yet be changed. He can still be guided down a different path. He need never become a Black Spiral Dancer, nor a threat to the universe.”

Doubts snorts softly. “That’s a fine thing for you Children of Gaia to say, but what of the ones who have to deal with the results of your mercy?”

“We are talking about a man’s soul here,” Changer retorts.

“A soul that’s been damned before he was even born,” Doubts says. “Just because his crimes were in the future doesn’t mean they didn’t happen. Why waste time on this foolhardy endeavor that could be better spent?”

“Doubts-the-Moon, have you been drinking?” Changer says.

Doubts looks around shiftily. “Only a little. That’s irrelevant though. I’d still have the same opinion when I’m sober, and I’ll happily tell you the same tomorrow.”

“The future won’t change unless I change it,” I say quietly. “I’ll never know why I, of all people, was given the gift of alternate universes. Someone wiser than me might be able to answer that. Gaia knows I’ve been lacking in wisdom at times.”

“Does there need to be a reason?” Luna asks.

“I still urge you to seek Luna’s counsel,” Changer says.

“Alright,” I say, and turn aside to Luna with a smirk. “Luna, what do you think?”

Doubts-the-Moon snickers in amusement. Changer looks less than amused.

“I think Changer-of-Minds has made a good suggestion,” Luna says. “My namesake might have answers for you. You would never be able to live with yourself if you did this without considering every possible option.”

I sigh and grin at her fondly. “Yeah. You’re right. That’s true. That’s very true.”

“Hedge your bets, Stormseeker,” Doubts warns.

“I don’t bet,” I say.

“Then don’t bet on being able to _redeem_ this Black Spiral Dancer,” Doubts says. “You ever heard that sometimes people can be born with their soul already corrupted from a previous life?”

“I’ve heard that,” I say with a frown. “I know a rite that can fix that, but I’ve never tried it on a _baby_. Generally the person needs to be willing, and that’s damned rare as it is.”

“If it is possible to redeem someone, then it should be done,” Changer says.

“They don’t usually want to be redeemed, Changer,” Doubts says in exasperation.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I have some friends working on figuring out a rite to shift time to prevent this man from existing. If we can find no other solution, we will use that. I will try to find another solution, but I will not stop them from working on that.”

“That’s all that could be asked of you,” Changer says, inclining her head toward me.

I put my hand on Luna’s shoulder. “Let’s find Moony and get back. We need to discuss this with the others.”

Luna nods, and smiles and says, “Farewell, Doubts-the-Moon and Changer-of-Minds.”

* * *

“How did it go?” Cassie asks. “Did you find anything?”

“We found Selenis,” I say.

“It does exist after all?” Hermione says.

I nod. “Also, I now need to turn into a dragon and fly to the moon.”

“And here I thought this was going to be hard,” Abraxas says with a smirk.


	14. Remember

“This isn’t helping,” I say, staring at the Pensieve.

Both Tom and Rispy had given me memories of me turning into a dragon, but it’s all second-hand. I go out to flop down in an armchair with a heavy sigh.

“Nothing here jogs your memory?” Cassie asks.

I shake my head. “I’m watching myself turn into a dragon here, and I _know_ that it’s possible and all that, but it does nothing to tell me _how_. It doesn’t convey how it _felt_ to be a dragon.”

“So you’re going to need your _own_ memories,” Hermione says. “That, or figure it out a second time. It couldn’t be that hard, could it? I mean, you’re _already_ a dragon, aren’t you? You’ve just forgotten how to shapeshift?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” I say.

“Stormseeker,” Luna says, leaning casually across the couch with her hands under her chin. “Tell me another story.”

I chuckle and grin at her. “Well, I guess that’s what we’re left to, isn’t it? Where did I leave off?”

“You and Padfoot had discovered the legacy of the Shapers on a mysterious island,” Luna says. “The creations fought for freedom from their creators. What happened next? How did the war go?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I mean, it’s not that I’ve forgotten. It’s that the war had hardly gotten rolling when I got hit with a Kill spell and made a full reset.”

“So you woke up back in Torn Elkandu?” Luna asks, and at my nod, she goes on, “Where did you go from there?”

I lean back in the chair and think back, and let my eyes slide shut. “I returned to the wizarding world. I didn’t intend to attend Hogwarts again, but Dumbledore had other ideas. I took on an unwanted destiny.”

The words come forth, trickling at first, as I tease the edges of the threads of memories and let them untangle themselves. Scenes, images, conversations. I stay focused and spin them into a tale, letting one scene fall after another, retelling events in order as they once played out before. An order that zigzags across space and time, but order nonetheless.

It’s a long story, and the story is long in the telling. Days turn into weeks and weeks into months as I draw out every detail of the tale, letting the words refresh the scenes in my mind, letting myself remember what I was thinking and feeling over those events. Cassie and Hermione listen with rapt attention. Sirius and Remus are practically on the edge of their seats at each turn. Abraxas pretends to keep it cool, but I still catch him leaning in to listen closer.

Although invited, Tom doesn’t come to listen to my storytelling. I’m guessing that he remembers enough of it that he doesn’t want to repeat it in his mind too closely. These memories do not paint a very flattering image of him, at first. He was mad and cruel. He murdered people, slaughtered people, tortured people. The very man I met when I came back to Hogwarts, before he began to recover his memories. At some point, somehow, he was redeemed. And I’m still not entirely sure how.

At the point where I meet Gellert, I track down ‘Percival Graves’ and invite him to storytelling.

“Suppose I’d better,” Gellert says with a chuckle. “Credence has been doing well. And I’d dearly like to hear what happened when you encountered Grindelwald.”

“It might not be pretty,” I warn.

“That’s to be expected,” Gellert says. “But everything worked out in the end, right?”

“Somehow,” I say.

It feels a little awkward to see him not looking like himself, but I suppose it’s okay. I’ve already seen different incarnations of people, and we’d gone by many different names, what’s one more on top of everything else? We’re all still practicing with age-changing and getting used to the feel of our own bodies at different ages, in case we wind up needing to fight as children, teenagers, or adults. The way our lives go, that’s very likely. I’d decided myself to keep to a young adult form as a default, when I don’t need to pretend to be a child. Strong and in the prime of my life, it’s younger than I appeared as Darth Revan, closer to twenty than Revan’s apparent thirties.

Gellert joins us back at the apartment to listen to my tale. About how he’d been hired on as a professor at Hogwarts to teach History of Magic. We were enemies at first, and he’d tried to kill me on more than one occasion, or done more than merely tried. But in the end, I gave him an opportunity, and he took it.

Gellert snorts in amusement as he listens to how that came about. “And here I thought you were going to say you redeemed me with the power of love or something.”

“I still wouldn’t rule that out,” I say with a smirk.

Bit by bit, I come to how we figured out how to do a Soul Bond, and how I wound up bonding with Tom, Cassie, and Gellert.

“So you didn’t actually fancy me at all, at that point?” Gellert asks. “You fancied Tom and Cassie. Why did you bring me along, then?”

“I couldn’t leave you behind,” I say.

“But you left behind plenty of other people,” Gellert says.

“Most of which I’d already alienated at that point,” I say.

“You don’t know that,” Gellert says.

“Hey, I don’t fancy everyone we brought this time,” I say. “Not in that way, I mean. No offense, Hermione.”

Hermione smirks. “None taken.”

“Was I even really a friend at that point, though?” Gellert asks. “A tentative ally, at best.”

“You’d more than proven your loyalty, though,” I say.

“Had I?” Gellert asks.

“I would have thought so,” I say. “Besides. I couldn’t have taken Cassie along if you hadn’t offered your help.”

“So it was really about Cassie, then,” Gellert says.

“A different thing happened, in that timeline,” I say. “We didn’t go through the same experiences as we did this time.”

“I want to hear what happened next,” Gellert says.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, and think back. The connections between one world and the next are the most tenuous, when I reset to Torn Elkandu and go to another place. But in this case, my path is pretty clear. We’d discussed what we’d planned to do beforehand.

“We go back to Terrestia,” I say. “We return to the world of the Geneforge. And there, we sought to uncover the secrets of the Shapers…”

A tale of a strange world that seems almost familiar by this point, almost like a second home to me. The world in which I met Rispy for a fourth time, and bonded him.

A world where I learned techniques to organize my mind and retain information. Similar techniques to those Suzy was teaching us during the few months we attended her school. In the midst of this tale, I take a bit of downtime to try to recall and master those techniques that I’d learned. I don’t think I’ve actually _lost_ skills so much as forgotten them. As is clear with my grasp of languages, the knowledge never really goes away. Languages come right back to me the minute I hear them spoken or read them written. I don’t think recovering skills would be as simple as that, though. No matter. I will learn.

Gellert goes quiet as the tale continues, the smile fading from his face. His counterpart, his past incarnation, had used magical augmentation canisters that imbued him with great power, but wore away at his mind little by little, driving him over the edge into insanity until he lost control. Until he betrayed the very people he was soulbound to, in a fit of madness.

“This is not what I expected,” Gellert says in a strained voice. “Not what I expected at all.”

“What did you expect?” I wonder.

Gellert shakes his head, stands up and storms out of the room.

I spring to my feet and say, “Gellert…”

Ignoring me, Gellert heads for the door out of the apartment and reaches toward the doorknob.

“Phoenix!” I call.

Gellert pauses, lowers his arm, and slowly turns around to look at me.

“Why did you come back for me?” Gellert asks quietly.

I don’t have an answer. I slowly walk down the hallway toward him, keeping him fixed in my gaze as if I’m afraid he’ll disappear at any moment.

“You didn’t remember,” Gellert says. “You just had a vague memory of who I was, without any recollection of the context for that.”

“Phoenix…” I whisper hoarsely.

“I betrayed you,” Gellert says. “And for what? Stupid, so stupid…”

“The story isn’t over yet,” I say.

“I don’t see how it could get any better from there,” Gellert says. “I don’t see how there could have been any hope for me.”

“There’s always hope,” I say.

“Is there?” Gellert wonders.

I go up and put my hands on his shoulders. “I promise you, that whatever happened in the past, in the future, in another timeline, in another universe, it does not change what we have here now. I’m glad to have you here with me, and I do not regret bringing you along for one moment.”

Gellert stares at me for a long moment, boring into me with eyes that are not his own. Then he suddenly puts his arms around me and clutches me tightly against him. I exhale abruptly under the unexpected pressure, and stand there awkwardly for a moment before reaching up to return his embrace.

“I’m sorry about what an asshole my counterpart was,” Gellert rasps. “I just don’t want to lose you. Not now. Not after everything.”

“Shh.” I hold him tight. “It’s alright. You won’t. I swear on my life and my magic I will always welcome you at my side, no matter what happens, and I will not allow anything to come between us. We might disagree at times, but there are things more important than differences of opinion.”

Gellert pulls back to look at me for a moment, but in lieu of a reply, kisses me. Fervently, deeply, passionately. I’m surprised for a moment, but I’m hardly about to protest. Not going to protest one least little bit. I close my eyes and lean into him. Behind me somewhere, I distantly hear a door close. I realize that we’re snogging directly in front of the entrance to the apartment and it might be slightly awkward if someone were to walk in at this point, but at the moment, I really don’t give a fuck.

“I –” Gellert begins, hesitantly. “I swear…” This is clearly hard for him. He takes a deep breath, and whispers, “I swear on my life and my magic that I will always stand by your side, no matter what happens, and I will not allow anything to come between us.”

We just hold one another for several minutes, feeling one another’s warmth, hearing each other’s breathing. Not kissing, not speaking, just being.

“Do you want to continue?” Gellert asks finally. “As you said, the story isn’t over yet, after all.”

I smile at him. “Let’s.”

We return to the parlor. If Hermione and Cassie were tittering behind our backs, they do their best to hide it.

“So,” I say, taking a deep breath as I flop down onto the couch next to Gellert. “Where were we?”

“The climactic showdown between you and Gellert, who went insane from overuse of canisters,” Hermione says helpfully.

“Right, that,” I say. “It didn’t turn out as badly as you might have feared…”

I tell them about how I realized I’d made a terrible mistake and had chosen to back the wrong side to begin with, and wound up just standing aside and letting Gellert do as he wished. We hooked up again and cleansed our now-mutual enemies in fire and blood, and then wound up bonding Rispy.

Gellert is quiet for a long moment, and comments quietly, “So, we realized that our bond to each other was much more important than any petty political disputes on the worlds we went to.”

I nod. “For a while there, I think we’d forgotten that. We got caught up in the war on Terrestia and each of us chose to side with a different faction, until we realized that every last one of them was corrupt and none of them were worth our loyalty, never mind our loyalty to the expense of one another.”

We returned to Torn Elkandu, intending to go back to the wizarding world. But whether we meant to stay there or just to get supplies, our plans got derailed when a stray thought sent us back to 1933.

“There’s 1933 again,” I mutter, scowling. “Why 1933?”

“That year just keeps popping up,” Cassie says. “How did that go? You said something about a potion for Marius?”

I nod. “It worked, alright. It altered his body so that he was capable of using magic.”

“Huh,” Cassie says. “Is there any chance that we could duplicate that research?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I wasn’t the one making it. Also you have to remember how bad I am at potions.”

Cassie makes a face. “Poooooint.”

“We could always make another visit to Terrestia,” Luna says. “It sounds like a fascinating place.”

“Once we have better access to a Nexus at least,” I say. “Once this whole business with Jez’kai is taken care of, I want to make acquiring permanent access to one a priority.”

“Good idea,” Hermione says. “But how?”

“We find one that’s not being used, or is under the control of a friendly faction,” I say. “Suzy mentioned something about being able to tie yourself into a Nexus to be able to Recall there when you wish. If we can do that, we’ll be able to go back and forth at will, visit any worlds we want…”

“It almost sounds like a dream,” Hermione says.

“There is no way that it will to be that easy,” Abraxas says.

“We’ll find a way, one way or another,” Luna says. “We’ll have all the time in the universe to figure it out.”

I continue with my story. I tell about what we’d done in 1933, and about how Cassie’s bond had broken upon relinquishing her regrets.

“Our current bonds shouldn’t be affected by regret or emotion,” Gellert says quietly. “They shouldn’t be so unstable as to dissolve when one’s regrets are met, or to break because of betrayal, or fray at repeated castings of Killing Curses. We’re not relying on a thin thread any longer, but a tapestry, of woven heavy fabric. These were made to last.”

“We make for quite the strange tapestry,” Sirius says with a grin from the door.

“Hey, Sirius,” I say. “How’s Tom? He getting sick of being a baby yet?”

“That man-baby has patience you would not believe,” Sirius says.

“Has Merope figured out that he regularly turns into a man and sneaks off to do manly things?” I wonder.

“No, and she’s not going to,” Sirius says with a smirk. “So, have I missed anything interesting over here?”

“You missed seeing Gellert and Revan snogging,” Abraxas says.

“Aw, man,” Sirius says.

It takes the remainder of the summer to tell all our adventures over the following eighty years. Many battles against upstart Dark Lords, wars fought and disasters averted. The laughter of our children and grandchildren, raised safe at Caer Danas. They come home from Hogwarts to tell about which House they were sorted into, what their classmates are like, what little adventures they have of their own sneaking out into the Forbidden Forest. About Cassie arranging Sirius and Remus’ wedding…

And then Cassie dies of old age. We’d all been hoping, as the end neared, that she would change her mind, accept re-bonding or at least de-aging, but she refuses up until her last breath.

“Seek me in eternity, for I am not here…” Cassie whispers her own epitaph. “I don’t understand. Why would I do that? There’s so much more to the universe than assuaging one regret, or even many regrets.”

I shake my head. “I never understood that myself.”

“There has to be more to it than that,” Cassie says. “Especially with enigmatic words like that.”

“I always thought it meant that I could meet you again in another time,” I say.

“Maybe,” Cassie says. “I can’t believe that that would just be it. Did I really say that eternity wasn’t my heart’s desire? But that’s not the _point_. We’re not in this _just_ to live forever.”

“Although it _is_ a nice perk,” Abraxas puts in.

“Says the secret Hufflepuff,” Sirius adds as an aside.

“This makes no sense,” Cassie says. “I had to have known something that I just wasn’t telling you for whatever reason.”

“Why would you do that?” I ask.

Cassie taps her fingers on the arm of her chair. “Maybe I found a way to independently travel through time and faked my own death so I could go off on my own for a while?”

I blink. “No, I don’t think you would have done that. Would you really have done that to me?”

“I don’t know,” Cassie says. “But there has to be _some_ answer here. I’d hardly think I’m the sort of person who would ever be suicidal.”

“We are unlikely to find out until such time as we can meet that version of you and ask her,” Abraxas says.

“It sounds too much like the ‘becoming one with the Force’ bullshit the Jedi preach,” I say.

“She died so she could become more powerful than you could possibly imagine?” Gellert says.

I groan. “You know, at this point, I just have to really hope it was something like that, and something she knew she would never be able to explain to me.”

“I don’t know if she can explain it to _me_ , either,” Cassie says, shaking her head. “Well, don’t worry. I’m _not_ going to do that again.”

“Good, because it would be a pain in the arse to undo that tapestry and reweave it,” Gellert says with a smirk.

“We still haven’t gotten to the part where you turn into a dragon,” Hermione says.

“I have no idea how much more there is to get to that,” I say. “Guess we’ll just have to continue the story at Ilvermorny and see where it goes.”

At this point, it’s seeming like actually going to school has become less and less relevant. But some of us have been looking forward to it, and I’m endlessly curious myself.

“Who will teach us about technology while you’re at school?” Marius wonders.

I chuckle. “You guys have been doing very well. And with Potions, too. I think you and Jacob are probably better at Potions by this point than _I_ am.”

“Wait, you have a _Muggle_ brewing potions?” Sirius says, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t they require magic and wandwork?”

“Not every tradition of magic in this world uses wands, you know,” Gellert says with a smirk. “You know Native Americans were way better than Europeans with Potions, and didn’t use wands?”

“And not every ‘Potion’ is actually magical,” I add. “Muggles just call it ‘chemistry’ and ‘medicine’. But since we brought back books of chemistry and medicine decades in advance of what’s available in this time frame, it might as _well_ be magical. Hell, baking soda might as well be magic to someone who doesn’t know why it makes cake rise.” I pause. “Actually, _I_ don’t know why it makes cake rise, but never mind that.”

“It’s a pity you wouldn’t have been able to remember the ‘Potions’ of the galaxy far, far away,” Gellert says.

“I know there’s a substance called kolto that has great healing properties,” I say. “And I know it gets shat out into the ocean by a giant magic shark or something stupid like that. Beyond that? Beats me.”

“But you know all about things that explode,” Gellert says. “Isn’t that also chemistry?”

“I’m not generally the one mixing chemicals,” I say. “I just put them in places to go boom.”

“Well, I’m not teaching Jacob how to make an atom bomb,” Gellert says.

“What’s an atom bomb?” Marius asks.

“Thing that makes a big boom,” Gellert says. “Unless you want to destroy a small city, not really useful.”

“There hasn’t been anymore trouble from MACUSA about us?” Abraxas wonders.

“Our good friend Mr. Graves has been very helpful,” Gellert says, waggling his eyebrows.

“You have the world at your fingertips,” I tell Marius. “I think you can manage to keep it up off of my holocron, and your own innovation.”

“Innovation…” Marius repeats slowly.

“If you dream high enough, you can fly to the moon and stars,” I say with a broad grin.

* * *

I hadn’t expected to be so nervous about going to Ilvermorny. What’s this, a mighty, immortal Dark Lord, afraid of some schoolchildren? Or the school itself? I already put it off until September on a flimsy excuse, even though we could have readily swung getting into school within a week of our arrival.

Cassie and Hermione opted not to bring their wands, but I’m too paranoid not to keep my wand and lightsaber on me at all times. Abraxas has already criticized them enough on their recklessness, though, so I don’t really feel the need to add to it.

“So, it’ll just be us five?” I ask unnecessarily. Everyone else is pretty busy with their own roles. Gellert keeping up his facade as Percival Graves, Remus keeping in contact with the werewolves, Tom still being a baby, Sirius spending most of his time in Britain and keeping close to Tom. And Rispy, ever-present and rarely seen, not even human, but will probably be around somewhere.

And then, without further ado, we’re going to Ilvermorny. Out of the mists, a castle, like Hogwarts but unlike Hogwarts. Other children at our sides come along with us, real children, bright-eyed and eager, if a little nervous. We come in with anticipation, into the Sorting room, as the older children watch on. Like Tina described to us before, there are four creatures marked in the center of the floor, their glittering eyes watching us silently.

One by one we’re sorted, and I watch each of my friends get chosen for a different House. Luna to Thunderbird, Cassie to Pukwudgie, Hermione to Horned Serpent, and Abraxas to Wampus. When it comes my turn, all four of the creatures react to my presence.

I blink down at the floor. “What – What do I do?” I wonder.

“Wow! All four of them?” says one of the teachers. “That doesn’t happen often. The last one was our President, Seraphina Picquery. You get to choose any House you want.”

“Well… alright then,” I say uncertainly, and choose Thunderbird, since it seemed like the obvious choice for me. I know we’re already going to be repeating this Sorting to see what happens, especially since we wound up so scattered.

I wonder what these people would think if we all were to suddenly drop dead in front of them. Especially the children. This whole silly plan suddenly seems needlessly cruel to those in the timelines we leave behind. We hadn’t really considered that ahead of time, I don’t think. I quietly comment as much to Luna, who grins.

“You really do worry too much,” Luna replies. “We already agreed ahead of time to do this. Any one of us can trigger it if we insist on it.”

“That’s… a good point,” I say.

“If it concerns you, just get somewhere the children can’t see first,” Luna says. “You don’t even know that’s how your power works. You’ve just been assuming it the whole time without any evidence to back it up.”

I sigh. “That’s… also true.”

“Also, even if it does, what we plan to do may well invalidate anything we do here,” Luna goes on. “This may seem like a frivolous exercise, but it will be good practice to see just what we can change. I’ll watch the time flies.”

“Fine,” I say. “Let’s do this.”

On our second attempt at the Ilvermorny Sorting, things have indeed shifted around a bit. Cassie is still Pukwudgie and Hermione is still Horned Serpent, but now Luna has the choice between Thunderbird and Horned Serpent and Abraxas has gotten Horned Serpent. As for me, now I have Thunderbird, Horned Serpent, and Wampus. Pukwudgie doesn’t seem interested in me anymore.

The third time around, Cassie gets Horned Serpent and Pukwudgie, Hermione gets Horned Serpent and Thunderbird, Luna gets Thunderbird, and Abraxas gets Thunderbird. Now, only Thunderbird and Horned Serpent want me.

“We should try for Horned Serpent if we can,” Hermione suggests. “It’s the one that seems to want the most of us.”

“Just getting us there at once might be a trick,” I say.

We try a few more runs, with the selections flickering around wildly, but there’s always one or two people who don’t manage Horned Serpent.

“How about we try Thunderbird?” I suggest.

Once again, we try another couple times, and once again, we can’t all get into Thunderbird at once either. As much as we’ve tried to empirically test this, I’m still not sure what criteria these magical imprints are judging us by.

And then, on the ninth run, none of the Houses react to me. I stare down at the design on the floor, frowning and spinning around slowly. “What does this mean?”

“I’m… not sure,” says one of the teachers. “This isn’t something that normally happens.”

We wait a few more minutes in anticipation, and then a few more. Nothing. After fifteen minutes of standing staring at the floor, I step off to the side and say, “You may as well sort the other children first. I don’t want to stall things or anything…”

“It’s alright,” the teacher says.

They sort the other students then give me another chance at it. Still nothing. I stand there staring at the floor for another hour as most of the students wander off, without a reaction from it. Maybe this isn’t something that happens normally, but most people aren’t messing around with the Sorting via time travel.

I decide to just run another loop, and another, again and again getting no reaction from the sorting mechanism. While the soul tapestry seems to sustain me enough that I’m not getting magically exhausted from repeated loops like I was early on, I’m growing pretty mentally exhausted by this. That probably has more to do with frustration than anything inherent to looping, I’m sure, though.

By the thirteenth run, I’m barely paying attention to where my friends are being sorted. Once again, none of the creatures react to me. I sigh and slump down against the floor.

“Please,” I murmur. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I didn’t mean anything.”

Nobody in earshot knows what I’m talking about. Nobody but my friends knows why Harry Potter is groveling to a floor. They probably don’t really know, either. At least I don’t have to be the Boy-Who-Lived, though.

It’s not like I had to come here, after all. I think that if this doesn’t work this loop, I’ll just have to give up and let my friends go to school without me. I can always join up with Remus, Sirius, and Gellert as they’re doing their own things, after all. I didn’t have to come to Ilvermorny. I was curious and I wanted to learn, but this wasn’t really necessary for my quest. I can still defeat Jez’kai even if I don’t go to Ilvermorny. I just thought it might be interesting. I thought it might be fun. I don’t remember having gone to Ilvermorny before in some previous life. Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t, but this doesn’t seem familiar at all. I’d long since lost count of how many loops I spent at Hogwarts. It would be wonderful to experience something _new_.

Just when I’d given up on getting into Ilvermorny and going off to find my own adventures, movement from beneath me catches my eye. Thunderbird is flapping its wings. I could almost imagine that even this mere wooden carving of a thunderbird is ready to create a storm.

“Thank you,” I murmur, climbing to my feet.

I look to where my friends have wound up. Luna and Abraxas are also in Thunderbird, while Cassie and Hermione are in Horned Serpent.

“Are you happy with this?” Luna asks. “We’ve learned a lot already.”

“I don’t think I’d want to mess with it anymore,” I say. “I almost didn’t get in.”

“Maybe you were doing it wrong,” Luna says.

“Maybe,” I say with a shrug. “It doesn’t matter. This outcome is acceptable.”

“It better be,” Abraxas mumbles. “I did not wish to be a foolish Wampus. You somewhat embarrassed yourself back there, though.”

“I can live with that,” I say with a smirk.


	15. Ilvermorny

It’s not until after the Sorting ceremony that we’re allowed to select our wands. This seems so unbelievably backwards to me that I have to wonder just how paranoid they are of children. Can’t people just walk into a shop whenever they want and buy a wand like a broom or a cauldron or something?

Regardless, it’s an interesting enough prospect. I don’t think I’ve ever been selected by a wand except my pine wand that was made in 1933\. Sure, I’ve used a bunch of other wands, notably the Elder Wand, but those were ones I’d borrowed or wrested away from their previous owners through violence.

While I expected another wand with a core of dragon heartstring, this time a wand with a thunderbird tail feather reacted for me, with a smooth shaft made of ebony wood, thirteen inches long and hard as steel. After the debacle at the Sorting, I’d been worried for a moment that none of the wands would be willing to choose me and that I’d be stuck with a poor match, but my new ebony wand seems fervently happy to be with me. I wonder if it’s possible to dual-wield wands like I did lightsabers. That’s a technique I hadn’t considered. I’ll have to try it, at least.

Our first class at Ilvermorny is a sort of general magical theory course, but today’s period is mostly introductions and describing what we’ll be learning over the year. Our professor is a woman by the name of Lelache, dark-skinned with knots of twisty black hair, with eyes that seem almost aggressive behind square glasses. The syllabus is all very basic things, for the most part the sort of things I would expect in a first-year course on wand magic, although there are a few principles mentioned that I am wholly unfamiliar with. I expect there to be a good deal of overlap with what I’ve already learned at Hogwarts.

We haven’t been idle in studying the Elkandu magic Suzy was teaching us, either. We kept up with it over the summer, and intend to continue it at school as we can as well. I’d like to think we’ve made a lot of progress, but we still have a long way to go. While we have no problem casting many of the basic spells, Suzy’s weaves are so tight and efficient I fear they might be impossible to match in the time given. Maybe we should have gone back even further, though I think it might take a century to get Suzy’s level of precision down. Well, if this doesn’t pan out, we’ll just have to figure something else out.

It’s only our second day at school that a visitor appears at Ilvermorny. A tall, blond man with sharp, regal features that I can only deduce is a Malfoy. After scanning the students eating breakfast, he approaches Abraxas, who is sitting next to Luna and I as usual.

“I had heard rumor of a Malfoy at Ilvermorny,” the man says. “I had wondered if this were true. Are you Abraxas?”

“I am,” Abraxas says. “And who might you be?”

“I might ask that of you. I am Hyperion Malfoy, paterfamilias of the House of Malfoy.”

“I _am_ Abraxas Malfoy.”

Hyperion puts his hand under Abraxas’ chin and looks him over critically, ignoring the scowl he receives in return. “You do have the look of one of us. Who is your father, boy?”

“Perseus,” Abraxas replies without missing a beat.

“Is that so?” Hyperion drawls. “My Squib of a cousin produced a wizard child before he met an unfortunate death? Perhaps he was good for something after all.”

“My father was _not_ worthless,” Abraxas retorts indignantly.

Hyperion waves a hand. “Of course. Defending your father is admirable, regardless of his actions or blood status.”

“Mr. Malfoy,” says a teacher, approaching us. A ginger-haired woman with a tight bun. I haven’t learned the names of all the teachers yet. O’Rourke, I think her name was. “I was told that you wished to meet your nephew, not that you intended to disrupt the children’s breakfast.”

Hyperion holds up his hands. “Please. No disruption is intended. By all means, carry on,” he says, waving his hands to the nearby children, who have turned to stare at the stranger and his relative.

Professor O’Rourke stands looking at him intently for a moment, as if questioning just how much he means that, before stepping away.

“Now, Abraxas,” Hyperion says. “I expect you to do proud by your family name.”

“Yes, I intend to make my father proud,” Abraxas says dryly.

Hyperion pauses thoughtfully, then shrugs. “Good enough.” He tips his hat and turns and walks out.

“Well, he’s a charming fellow,” I say lightly once he’s out of earshot. “That encounter was almost pleasant.”

“Yes,” Abraxas agrees. “As well as could be expected.”

I glance aside to Luna. “So, can we expect any Lovegoods showing up randomly at some point, too?”

“Oh, no, probably not,” Luna says cheerfully. “I told them I’m a time traveler.”

We don’t have a privacy charm up at the moment or anything. A couple students give her an odd look, then shrug it off and get back to breakfast. It has only been two days, but they’ve managed to already get used to her being weird. Either that, or that someone joking about being a time traveler is far more plausible than someone actually being a time traveler. Or possibly a combination of both. I remember how I’d proclaimed myself a Dark Lord before I even set foot in Hogwarts, and nobody believed me at first. At first.

We could have as easily used aliases for the most part, but in the end opted to just use our usual names. There are ways to determine someone’s name, after all, and more ways to determine if someone is lying. It’s one less thing to lie about, and for the most part nobody will really have much reason to question it, especially not in this part of the world. I wonder who notified Hyperion that a Malfoy had been sorted into Ilvermorny so quickly?

On our first practical lesson in the classroom, Professor O’Rourke notices me holding my wand in my left hand, and comes over to my desk.

“Use your right hand,” she tells me, plucking it out of my hand and holding it out for my other.

“But I’m left-handed,” I protest.

“We’ll just have to make you right-handed, then,” O’Rourke says. “Use your right hand. I’ll have no sinister wizards in my classroom.”

I shrug and decide not to argue about it. “Yes, ma’am.”

If anything, it will be good practice, I suppose, plus it will make it easier to disguise the fact that I’ve already got quite a bit of experience with first year charms due to having repeated my first year at Hogwarts more times than I can remember. At least we’re learning a slightly different selection of charms for variety. Notably, Ilvermorny apparently does not teach eleven-year-olds how to unlock doors. That’s probably sensible.

When we’re in our common room, we take a secluded corner and put up privacy charms and talk. For all my usual paranoia, we’re probably not as careful as we could be about it. That evening, when we’re at one of the nooks – we’re still shifting around trying to decide on one that we prefer – Luna presses me with a question.

“Are you going to continue your story?” she asks.

I grouse. “It just doesn’t seem the same without everyone else here. Like I’m describing what they were doing behind their backs.”

“They weren’t there the whole time you were telling it to the Bone Gnawers at Buried Cable Sept, either,” Luna points out.

“Well, true,” I say. “But the later ones somehow feel more real, since they’re the ones I took with me. I know it’s a silly feeling. They’re all real, after all. More… attachment to it?”

“Phoenix and Hawke were the ones you took with you from there,” Luna says. “And Rispy, who already knows everything.”

“Isn’t the point of this all so you can remember how to turn into a dragon so you can fly to the moon so you can destroy the evil werewolf who wants to make himself a god?” Abraxas says.

“You know, if anyone could hear what we’re saying right now, I can only imagine that they’d have to think I’m writing fiction,” I say.

“Nonsense,” Abraxas says. “Fiction has to make sense.”

“You should continue the story anyway, even if it’s just to us,” Luna says. “You can always tell it again for the others later.”

“Alright, alright,” I say. “I do know the next bit there, at least. You see, after the incident where we wound up in 1933, we realized that we could use the Nexus to travel to any point in time that we could remember clearly…”

“That might be more useful if we currently had access to a Nexus,” Abraxas says. “And if we weren’t about to disrupt the timeline so badly that we might not recognize it afterward.”

I chuckle. “It’s something to keep in mind, either way. I think we didn’t realize how good we had it, then. Even if the window to get out of Torn Elkandu before the attack was small, we could always fully reset there whenever we wanted anyway, so it didn’t matter.”

“Tell me you at least made full use of it after that eighty-year debacle you called a life,” Abraxas says.

I snort. “It was a good life.”

“You refused to reset even after your grandson was murdered and you couldn’t stop it, because of Cassie,” Abraxas says.

I scowl at him and open my mouth to protest.

“And before you say something about that you shouldn’t use your power to fix everything, _it was your fucking grandson_ ,” Abraxas snaps. “If this isn’t worth using Time Magic for, what is the point of it?”

I sigh. “I can’t justify actions that I barely remember. I’m sure, at the time, I believed my reasoning was sound. In hindsight, some of the things I did were pretty baffling. I think I had convinced myself not to abuse it…”

“No, I think you were more obsessed with Cassie than anything else and that it clouded your reasoning,” Abraxas says.

I close my eyes. “Was it love, or was it really obsession?”

“Tell me now, after all you’ve told, do you love her?” Abraxas says.

“What, now?” I wonder. “This Cassie?”

“Yes,” Abraxas says. “Do you love her?”

I blink and consider. “Well… she’s a good friend and I care about her quite a bit…”

“That wasn’t what I asked,” Abraxas presses. “Do you _love_ her?”

“Romantically? No. That… just wasn’t what happened this time around. I love Phoenix.”

Even under privacy charms, it just doesn’t seem safe to speak his real name. Not when we’re at the height of Grindelwald’s reign of terror in this time frame.

“Is she expecting that you will attempt to continue your relationship with her into this life?” Abraxas asks.

I sigh. “I don’t think so. Especially not with my current relationship having been made abundantly clear.”

“But, you do love all of us,” Luna says.

“Platonically?” I say.

“There’s a nice coffee shop in Platonic Alley,” Luna comments.

I groan. “Sure, we’ll just have to stop by there sometime.”

“Tell me you at least did something useful with your newfound ability to go when and where you wanted,” Abraxas says.

“That was the idea,” I say. “We decided to go back to some of the timelines we’d been to before and tie up some loose ends, so to speak. All those times I’d died a sudden and untimely death and done a full reset while there were still things I felt that were left undone.”

I recount each jump we made over the next several days, and how I’d wanted to avoid any contact with Cassie because it was too painful to think about, too fresh still. But after bringing Sirius back from the world of the Geneforge, they convinced me to go see her. I wound up de-aging that universe’s version of Cassie, to give her another chance at making a life for herself. It wasn’t much, perhaps, but it at least did something to assuage my feelings over the loss of my wife.

“I don’t think that was just obsession,” Luna says.

I go quiet for a long moment, pensively, thinking back, trying to trace the next point of the story.

“Well?” Abraxas says, finally getting impatient. “Where did you go after that? Or when I suppose I should say. Time travel makes terminology confusing.”

I stare off at nothing in particular, turning to look over our common room, as if carefully examining the décor or watching the other students go about their business, but I barely see any of it.

“I don’t know,” I finally say.

“Did you lose the thread of story?” Luna asks.

“Guess so,” I say. “I’m sure we must have intended to go to some other world at that point, but I can’t quite place what it was, how we got there, or how we determined where to go. I mean, I’m sure we got the coordinates to a new world from Keolah, but which one or why is beyond me right now.”

“I’m sure it will come to you eventually,” Luna says.

Abraxas grunts. “I shan’t pretend to know how this storytelling works, and I know not what might bring up the next set of images in your mind.”

“It’s alright,” I say. “I’ll sleep on it. It might come to me in a dream or something.”

“You could ask Rispy,” Luna suggests.

“I’ve _looked_ at some of Rispy’s memories,” I say. “It’s not actually that helpful in jogging my own.”

“As you say,” Abraxas says. “The thing I find most hilarious about all this was how you kept attempting to put Draco and Hermione together.”

“It amused me,” I say. “And I did think they’d be good for one another, once they got past their initial insecurities.”

“You mentioned that the goblins had an artifact that could only be activated by someone with the blood of old Atlantis,” Abraxas says. “Did you ever discover what its purpose was?”

“Not that I recall,” I say. “They may well have it in the Gringotts of the current time period, too. Do you think it might be helpful to our current situation?”

“If you don’t know what it does, then you don’t know that it wouldn’t,” Luna says.

“Point,” I say. “We could try collecting it on holiday.”

I’m not about to give up on the story yet, but as much as I roll it over in my mind, the next chapter refuses to come. I’m missing something vital, some key point that would let me continue. Without a story to tell, we redouble our focus on working on mana weaves, in between doing our actual homework. We’ve all completed at least one year of school before, though, so even Luna doesn’t have too much trouble with the class material.

I really have to hand it to her, though. She’s not an aged-down adult like most of us, nor a ridiculous genius like Hermione, but she doesn’t let that discourage her. She just keeps at it at her own pace, and often succeeds by pointing out new and offbeat approaches the rest of us hadn’t even thought of. If anything, her relative inexperience with magic is an asset toward learning this new and radically different form that Suzy was teaching. She doesn’t have the same preconceptions, plus, she’s much better at seeing magic than any of us. While she can’t really hold a candle to the others in terms of wandwork, she’s probably the best of us at weaving by this point already.

One evening, when we’re practicing weaves, one of our classmates comes up to us. A freckled eleven-year-old girl with a round, pale face and a mess of brown hair cut short like a boy’s. Irene, I think her name was.

“What are you doing?” Irene asks.

I make sure she’s included in the privacy charm, just in case Luna spontaneously says something potentially incriminating again. “Practicing.”

“Practicing what?” Irene wonders. “You’ve been staring at the air and haven’t touched your wands.”

“Wandless magic, of course,” Abraxas replies.

“Well, it doesn’t seem to be working very well, does it?” Irene says.

I gently focus a weave around a quill and let it drift into the air, all without so much as lifting a finger or batting an eye. Hand movements are a crutch, Suzy said, and we’ve been trying to learn to weave spells without them, but it’s been difficult. This version of telekinesis is more complex and controlled than what a Jedi might use, but with enough practice, I think we might be capable of holding objects in the air indefinitely, or effectively giving us extra sets of hands. We have a long, long way to go, though. At this point, even Luna can only hold a single small object in the air for a few minutes.

“How did you do that?” Irene says, peering at the floating quill.

“Magic,” I say vaguely.

“There has to be some trick to that,” Irene says. “You’re pulling my leg. You’ve got a hover charm built into the quill. You didn’t wave a wand or even a finger, and didn’t say any words.”

I wonder if our difficulty in using this sort of magic is related to the fact that people here won’t believe it can work. But no, they’re open to magic of all kinds, and even the typical magic as taught at Hogwarts can be used wandlessly or silently with sufficient skill.

Luna just grins and forms an invisible hand of Force, and pokes her in the nose. Irene reaches up and puts her hand over her nose. Luna ruffles her hair. Irene jumps and looks around in confusion. Luna tugs at her sleeves.

“What – What are you doing?” Irene stammers.

“Telekinesis,” Luna replies, letting the magic hand dissipate.

Wide-eyed, Irene turns and runs off.

“You realize she’s just going to tell everyone,” Abraxas says.

“No help for it,” I say with a shrug. “Someone would have figured it out eventually.”

Sure enough, the next evening, Professor Lelache calls the three of us into her office to speak with us.

“I understand you’ve displayed some interesting abilities,” Lelache says. “Let’s talk about ‘telekinesis’. Which one of you can do it?”

Might as well go all-out and see what happens. Maybe some of them can figure things out where we can’t. “All of us,” I reply.

Lelache raises an eyebrow. “An innate power like a Metamorphmagus, or did you learn it before coming to school?”

“We learned it, a bit at least, since it doesn’t need a wand,” I say. “We’re not very good at it yet, though.”

“And this isn’t merely wandless and nonverbal magic?” Lelache wonders.

I shake my head. “It’s totally different, but it’s hard to explain how in brief terms.”

“Where did you learn it?” Lelache asks. “This would be a fascinating addition to the curriculum. We’re always open to new forms of magic to share. I was unaware that Britain knew such abilities.”

“You won’t find anyone there who knows it if you ask,” Luna says. “It’s not very well-known.”

“Um,” I say, thinking fast. “Can you promise not to get the person who taught us in trouble? I don’t know if he was really supposed to be teaching us magic before school.”

Lelache chuckles and nods. “I’m sure something can be arranged. Particularly if this person agrees to a teaching position.”

“Now that is just blackmail,” Abraxas says.

“Not at all,” Lelache says. “Just a simple request. We would hardly be able to do anything about a British citizen, particularly as I doubt such is illegal there regardless.”

“We actually didn’t learn it until we came to the States,” I say. “Percival Graves taught us a few little tricks.”

“Ah,” Lelache says. “I see. Now, rest assured that I will not be pressing a legal issue with him, but I will certainly approach him regarding his willingness to teach a class here.”

“That would be awesome,” I say. “We didn’t really have a chance to learn much. I’d love to be able to practice more things.”

This really wasn’t just a ploy to get to spend more time with Gellert. Honest. I won’t lie that I wouldn’t be happy about that outcome, though.

The remainder of the term passes blissfully uneventfully, without anything unfortunate exploding. It’s rather refreshing, really. Even Halloween doesn’t herald anything worse than a sudden outbreak of dragon pox that incapacitates half the student body for a week. Nobody dies, at least. That’s something.

Come winter holiday, we arrive home to find Gellert in the foyer along with the young man whose name I believe was Credence. After a round of introductions, the poor fellow seems to be finding himself a little overwhelmed.

“Do you all live here, or are you just visiting for Christmas?” Credence asks.

“Our families are in Britain, for the most part,” Cassie says. “We didn’t think it necessary to cross the ocean every year, though, so we’ve been staying here for holidays.”

Credence goes off to the parlor with the others to start getting to know them, leaving me alone with Gellert for the moment.

I glance to Gellert and ask quietly, “So, did you tell him about the stuff?”

“I told him about the stuff,” Gellert says. “But not the thing. And definitely not the wossname.”

I nod. It’s probably a testament to how much time we’ve spent around each other that I don’t even need to wonder what exactly he means.

“Well, that’s one less thing to worry about,” I say. “I don’t want to have to start watching what I say in my own home.”

Gellert chuckles. “This is your home now?”

I grin crookedly. “Home is where my friends are.”

“Good answer,” Gellert says. “And I take it _you’re_ responsible for one Professor Lelache visiting me?”

“Maybe,” I drawl. “Are you going to come to Ilvermorny?”

Gellert nods. “Yeah. I’ve been making arrangements with the Auror offices to retire and take up teaching.”

“Will you be coming in next year, or mid-term?” I ask.

“I’ll be coming in in January,” Gellert says. “Unlike you, I don’t feel like wasting half a year dicking about.”

“I wasn’t dicking about,” I say with a smirk. “We were practicing magic and storytelling.”

“Dicking about,” Gellert says, his grin spreading.

“So they’ll let you come in mid-term?” I ask.

Gellert nods. “I did insist on one little condition on my joining the teaching staff. Credence will be given a special exception to come in as a first-year student. He’s powerful, but his magic is wild and barely controlled, and he’s lacking in training and self-confidence. He’s been doing very well lately, though, and he’s been much calmer and more at ease, especially since I adopted him and got him out of the horrible situation he was in.”

“Wait, you adopted him?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yep, totally did,” Gellert says. “He was beside himself with joy, you know.”

“Does that make me an uncle?”

Gellert chuckles. “You know it would be illegal for us to get married in this time frame. And probably greatly unwise to even mention it outside this apartment, given attitudes on homosexuality of the time, even if they _did_ realize you’re not just a kid.”

“Well… yeah, that much is obvious,” I say. “Were things really so bad for gay people in this time?”

“You have no idea,” Gellert says. “And you probably don’t really want to find out, either.”

I nod. “I’ll take your word on it, then.”

“Thor’s balls, do you know how much arguing it took to get them to let Credence in, too?” Gellert says. “They really weren’t happy about him in general. But it’s taken him months just to get him to stop hating himself, and I’m not about to cut him loose now.”

I turn around and lean against the table under the window and gaze out at the city. Not that it’s really a window, just a glass panel spelled to show the outside, framed by cream lace curtains hung from a brass rod. It’s close enough, though.

I’m quiet for a long time before asking, “What do you think will happen to this timeline?”

“I don’t know,” Gellert says. “We have no way of knowing if something like what we’re going to attempt has ever been done before. But removing Jez’kai from the timeline is almost certainly going to wipe out the future in which you destroyed the Ministry of Magic.”

“I’m not sure that that’s any great loss,” I say. “They’ll probably be better off.”

“The time frame we’re currently in, however, might be unaffected,” Gellert goes on. “It’s possible, if not entirely likely, that what we change will only affect the future from here on out, while whatever we do here will ‘stick’, so to speak.”

“So does that mean Ilvermorny will always be the American wizarding school, and not the Salem Witches Institute?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Gellert says. “This _is_ an alternate universe, after all. The universe in which the Elkandu come over to this world may very well still happen.”

“Do you think the time-change might affect other universes as well?” I wonder. “The Elkandu found the Nexus in 1933. There’s no way that can be a coincidence.”

Gellert sighs. “It’s really hard to say. But you’re right. I doubt there’s any such thing as coincidence where Time Magic is concerned.”

“I guess there’s nothing to be done but to see where things settle,” I say.

“Oh, but there’s plenty to be done,” Gellert says. “We can shape this future. We might not be sitting through eighty years of it, but we can put them on a course that will let them steer it on their own. We have friends and allies in this time. All we have to do is give them the tools they need to make it happen.”

“There won’t be any Dark Lords to ravage the wizarding world with pointless wars,” I say quietly.

“There might be some upstart arseholes,” Gellert says with a shrug. “But without Grindelwald and Voldemort to stir things up, the future will be very different.”

“And the things we’ve been teaching Marius and Jacob…” I murmur. “And you coming to Ilvermorny to teach mana weaving…”

“We might not recognize the future we’re laying the foundations for,” Gellert says with a broad grin.

“Maybe they’ll even make it to the stars,” I say.

“I haven’t been idle in working behind the scenes to steer things into position to avert the war with the Muggles you described,” Gellert says. “Bringing down the Statute of Secrecy without bloodshed or Paradox backlash will _not_ be easy, and it’s completely beyond us with the time and numbers that we currently have. However, I still believe that it’s completely necessary.”

“Agreed,” I say. “The people in this world need to learn to live with one another, somehow. But that’s not our problem to solve.”

“It’s the problem of those we leave behind,” Gellert says.

“Unless we wind up staying in this timeline,” I say.

“I doubt it,” Gellert says. “I’ve been going over the models Suzy gave us, and comparing with what I know about Paradox.” He sighs and puts his head to his forehead, more serious than I’ve seen him in quite a while. “This is going to hurt. This is really going to hurt.”

“What do you think will happen?” I wonder.

“We’ll survive it, sure,” Gellert says. “Of that I’m certain. Your innate Time Magic won’t tolerate anything less than its own continued existence. And the soul tapestry won’t be damaged, either. The way we wove our souls together, that same Time Magic thinks we’re all the same person. We’re all part of you.”

“There’s a ‘but’ coming up here, though.”

Gellert nods. “There’s no way that we’ll remain in this universe. The Paradox backlash is liable to knock us hard into the Umbra and beyond. The world will vomit us out as though it just ate something foul. Reality does _not_ like being fucked with like that.”

“Well, we can deal with that,” I say. “Wherever and whenever we wind up, so long as we still have each other, we’ll manage.”

“That’s not all,” Gellert says. “We may wind up losing power, even if only temporarily. We may lose memories, too. There’s no telling whether we’ll be able to take anything with us, too.”

I groan. “And here I was thinking I’d already taken care of that.”

Gellert grins at me reassuringly. “Don’t worry. So long as we know it’s a possibility, we can take precautions to mitigate it. I’m damned well not going to forget you if I can help it. Suzy mentioned something the Elkandu used called ‘mnemonics’, triggering the retrieval of lost memories when a certain stimulus is encountered.”

I nod. “We’re definitely going to need to figure that out and set them up, then.”

“I’ve already got Hermione working on it,” Gellert says.

“That’ll do it,” I say. “Our memories are in good hands, then.”

“Beyond that, it’s hard to say,” Gellert says. “The worst part of Paradox is that it’s unpredictable by its very nature. We may wind up in seriously bad situations in a hostile world. If you think you had bad luck before, it’s nothing compared to what Paradox might do to you.”

“We’ll manage,” I say again. “One way or another, we’ll manage.”


	16. Heirs of Atlantis

“You say I never did figure out what this was for,” Hermione says, peering intently at the device on the table. She and Cassie had snuck out to retrieve it last night, and were back in America before anyone even noticed them missing.

The relic is roughly cylindrical, of a size that would fit comfortably in the hand, with a row of knuckle-sized blue crystals jutting up around the top edge.

“You were the only one it would activate for, too,” I add. “The goblins said that the blood of Atlantis had died out amongst wizards.”

“And that it must have lived on through Muggles,” Hermione adds.

We spend the next two days playing with it on and off, but it doesn’t help that Hermione is the only one who can get it to react at all, and she winds up spending more time reading any book that might be tangentially related than actually testing it.

“Didn’t you read enough before we got off on hols?” Cassie says.

“Yes, but now that I have it here to compare, I might be able to pin down what it is,” Hermione says.

“There really aren’t a lot of books that are actually reliable sources of information about Atlantis, rather than rampant speculation,” Cassie says.

“You know, after all that, I bet we’re overthinking it,” Gellert says. “When that happens, there’s only one thing to be done.”

“What’s that?” I wonder.

“Ask a small child, an idiot, and someone who has no idea what’s going on,” Gellert says.

“I think we’re fresh out of idiots other than me,” I say. “Will Marius and Jacob do?”

“Definitely,” Gellert agrees. He snatches up the device and takes it down the hall to the room we’ve been using as a tech study-lab. “Hey, guys.” He sets it down on the table between Marius and Jacob. “Check this out.”

“What’s this?” Jacob wonders. He reaches over and picks it up. The crystals on the top flare blue.

“Well, now I don’t feel so special anymore,” Hermione says, almost pouting.

Gellert laughs aloud. “Congratulations, Jacob. You’re a long-lost descendant of Atlantis.”

“What?” Jacob says, looking at him blankly.

I chuckle. “This device can only be activated by someone with Atlantean blood, but it has died out amongst wizards. So far, Hermione’s the only other one we’ve found that can even get the thing to light up.”

“Have you found what it controls yet?” Jacob asks.

I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean, what it controls?”

“It’s a remote control for something,” Jacob says.

“How could you possibly tell _that_?” Hermione asks.

“I don’t know,” Jacob says. “I can just feel it.”

“Well, that wound explain why we couldn’t figure out what it does,” Gellert says.

“No, we haven’t found whatever it controls,” I say.

“Maybe you can use the thing to find it,” Marius says.

“Hmm,” Jacob hmms. “Yes, I think I might be able to tell roughly how far away it is. But right now, from here, my best guess is that it’s somewhere on this planet.”

“Well, that’s still helpful anyway,” I say. “It’s not improbable that it could have been on a different planet, after all.”

“You can go all over the place pretty easy, though, right?” Marius asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “We’re strong enough to do intercontinental Apparation.”

The soul nexus helps with that. While some of us are powerful enough not to need it, it does give an extra power boost from the others and makes that a lot easier.

“So if Jacob can tell if you’re close, you can play hot and cold and find it!” Marius says.

“That’s an excellent idea,” Gellert says. “Jacob, my friend, are you up for a little globe-trekking?”

“Should I pack?” Jacob asks.

Gellert says, “Most of us are going to be holed up at school for the next six months. And, sadly, Apparation isn’t quite that simple. Can’t Apparate somewhere you haven’t seen. We’ll have to go off on a road trip. You wanna schedule it for next summer, or would you rather just head off with Sirius and Remus?”

“And me!” Marius puts in.

“The summer will do,” Jacob says. “We have a lot of work to do.”

“Newt may be able to help, too,” I say. “He’s traveled a lot, hasn’t he?”

“Let me just pop you to a few places that I can Apparate you to, first,” Gellert says. “See if we can at least narrow it down to a continent.”

“Alright,” Jacob says.

“And just so we’re not feeling incredibly silly if it winds up being in Cardiff or something,” Gellert adds.

Those two head off for a bit.

“Are you really that sore about Jacob also being descended from Atlantis?” I ask Hermione.

“Not really,” Hermione says with a shrug. “It would honestly be a little overwhelming if I were. I mean, wouldn’t I then be obligated to continue the line? Even if we _weren’t_ facing potentially impending doom, I don’t even want to think about having children just yet!”

I chuckle. “Someday, in some universe, maybe. Even after thinking about the children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren I apparently had in another life, I don’t think I want to repeat that for a while. We’ll see what happens wherever and whenever we end up, right?”

“Yeah,” Hermione agrees. “I suppose so. And besides, I was sure that, whatever the goblins might have said, there must have been plenty of descendants of Atlantis. How many Atlanteans must there have been originally? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Millions?”

“I have no idea,” I say.

“There must be _something_ more of their legacy left,” Hermione says. “And not just a few devices and a handful of descendants. Given the Muggle population, there must be millions.”

Gellert and Jacob return shortly. “Well, we’ve been able to determine where it’s _not_ , at least,” Gellert says.

“I have to say I’m a little overwhelmed at that flash voyage,” Jacob says with a chuckle. “We went to England, a few places in Europe, Russia, the Himalayas, and South America. It was nowhere even remotely near any of those.”

“Which leaves our most likely candidates as being Africa and Australia,” Gellert says.

“What kind of range would you even be able to sense its proximity, though?” I wonder.

“I’m fairly certain that it was nowhere within over a thousand miles of the spots Phoenix took me,” Jacob says. “I wouldn’t rule out the Orient, Alaska, or even Central America.”

I nod. “We still have a lot of ground to cover, then.”

“And since I’ve never been near any of those places, I won’t be able to Apparate us there,” Gellert says. “We’ll have to get there the hard way.”

* * *

Mana Weaving, as the class winds up being called, is introduced as an elective available to all students starting in the second term of the school year. As such, our introductory class contains a collection of students of all ages, the curious and the studious. While me and my friends would be applicable for a higher level course, there is no such one available yet, so we’re going to need to continue to practice on our own.

“Welcome to our first class of Mana Weaving,” Gellert says from the front of the room. “I am Percival Graves, and I will be your professor for this term, and for the foreseeable future. Not many people know this art, not many humans at least. You see, I learned it from a fairy, and it was quite the rare privilege, as they do not give up their secrets easily. Knowing this particular fairy, however, a peculiar specimen of the breed as she was, she will not mind me sharing them with you.”

A convenient lie that just happens to be the truth, as Suzy was born as a pixie in her first life. The best lies are the ones that are actually true, after all. Just put into a misleading context. Especially when dealing with a society that has any form of truth detection.

“This is a subject that will be a real eye-opener for you in the way of magic,” Gellert goes on. “Quite literally, as the first thing you will need to master is the ability of mana reading. This will allow you to effectively _see_ weaves of magic, which will be necessary for properly weaving it. And no, don’t worry about any of that hogwash about the Inner Eye of Divination or anything like that. This is something that anyone can do, given practice.”

Gellert crosses the large room to indicate me and my friends. Much as I hate to be singled out, at this point it’s too late, since people have already realized there’s something odd about us and they’ve seen us practicing mana weaving in our common rooms.

“These five have already learned some of the rudiments of the subject,” Gellert says. “They will be assisting me in demonstrating and assisting _you_ in learning.” He grins. “After all, they’ve just figured out what worked for them themselves and can now share their own tricks.” His expression softens and he smiles at the taller figure sitting behind us. “Also joining us is my adopted son, Credence Graves. Please give him some consideration, as his magic was not discovered until late. He’s a clever boy, though, and I’m certain that he will catch up soon. I’m proud of how far he’s come so far.”

Credence practically glows under the praise.

“Now, shall we begin?” Gellert says. “While I’m sure some of your other teachers have spent their entire first periods going over the class syllabus or having little ‘getting to know you’ sessions –” There are snickers around the room. “– _I_ don’t see any need to put things off. There’s no day like today, after all. So without further ado…”

We start in on the mana reading lesson. My friends and I split up and wander around the room, going from student to student to see how they’re doing and give them pointers. A few of the older students seem a little resentful at first of being magical advice by first-years, but they quickly realize that these first-years have had at least some practice in an area they have not. After that, the comments go toward how British children must get their magical education started sooner.

Credence is the first one to get it. “I see! I see it!” he exclaims. For a moment I might have thought that Gellert had been teaching him some of this already, but even if so, his and Gellert’s reactions would seem to indicate otherwise.

“Congratulations, my boy,” Gellert says. “I knew you could do it.”

“It’s so beautiful,” Credence breathes, staring at the patterns of mana that Gellert had woven loosely in the air for us to detect.

I’m impressed at it, myself. It had taken me _months_ to manage what he just did in minutes. Sometimes I think I just have to accept that I’m not really very _good_ at magic. If it weren’t for time travel, I’d just be another mediocre wizard who scrapes by in his classes and winds up in a job that doesn’t heavily involve using magic. Or a dragon handler. I wouldn’t have minded being a dragon handler. Regardless, it’s a little depressing to think about, not to mention more than a little intimidating, seeing as this whole operation is riding on _me_ being able to create a tight, precise weave of a sort of magic even Suzy didn’t really know.

Well, if we can’t figure it out in time, or it doesn’t work the first time, then I will try again, and again and again and again, until it works, or until I find something else that works. Words, swords, and machines, those are what I’m good at. But then, my real success at rune-based magic was when I started approaching it like a computer. Could that be a trick I can use with weave-based magic as well? But where rune magic was like a programming language, mana weaves are more of dealing with raw circuitry. I might still be able to work with that. I might definitely be able to work with that.

We continue on with classes through the next term. While Credence has quite a bit of difficulty with even first-year wand-based magic, he seems like a natural with mana weaves. The younger students in general seem to have an easier time of it. Most of the first-years can manage mana reading within the first week, while the older students have a lot harder of a time with it. Most of the older students drop the class after the first few lessons.

And for all that, I continue to fail to grasp the next thread in my story. Tom and Rispy both assured me that the next world we visited was a place called Thedas, and that it was here that I learned to transform into a dragon. It’s more information from Rispy than I usually get, but in this case I’d imagine he realizes the importance of this and is making an exception.

But memories of Thedas don’t come. It’s like there’s something utterly inconceivable about it right from the start that I can’t quite put my finger on, and it bothers me to no end. At this point, I’ve pretty much resolved that I’m not going to get at these memories like this. Something needs to change, either externally or internally.

I try finding another way of relearning how to shapeshift without having to rely on those memories. I don’t even care if someone sees me transform right now, since after all, we can just reset if necessary once I can get that down. But it doesn’t come. I just don’t remember _how_ to do it. The shapeshifters of this world assured me that it should come naturally, and had suggested that maybe this body simply wasn’t old enough, but I can change my age at will anyway, so that really shouldn’t be a factor, should it? It makes no sense. I can’t even manage to repeat whatever it was that let me extend my claws.

“You seem frustrated,” Luna says to me one evening.

I nod tersely. “Why can I not manage this transformation? I _am_ a dragon. It’s supposed to be my true form, isn’t it?”

“Maybe you’re overthinking it,” Luna says. “They said it shouldn’t be hard, didn’t they? But I’d imagine you have a block that’s keeping you from changing.”

“A block…” I repeat. “Do you suppose that might be related to whatever made me keep forgetting everything?”

“Maybe,” Luna says. “It’s probably not wrackspurts, though.”

“Well, it’s nice to be able to rule out one thing, at least,” I say with a grin.

“It could be mental or magical,” Luna says thoughtfully, peering at me. “But if it were magical, one of us would have noticed something in your aura. The other things were mental, so it’s probably mental, too.”

“I don’t fancy having anyone else poke around in my brain to try to pinpoint it,” I mumble. “Not even Tom, really. So, it’ll have to be meditation, I’d imagine. Which is still pretty much what I was trying to do in the first place.”

“You will find it, Stormseeker,” Luna says. “I don’t think you’re destined to seek forever without finding.”

“There is no destiny,” I mutter, although my heart isn’t in it.

* * *

Summer comes before we realize it. While we’re reluctant to leave our new wands behind at school, at least we know those are just backups, effectively. Even if we _didn’t_ have wands already, we’d have buggered off to Diagon Alley to buy ones. They have no such restrictions _there_.

“What are you planning to do with your summer?” Irene asks as we’re preparing to leave.

“Travel,” I reply. “You?”

“Just spend some quiet time at home,” Irene replies. “Where are you traveling?”

“Africa,” I say. “We’re going to see the pyramids.”

That’s not entirely the idea, but it sounds like a plausible enough vacation plan. We’re not sure we’re even going to wind up anywhere near Egypt, after all.

“Oh, that sounds interesting,” Irene says. “Get me a postcard while you’re there, will you?”

I chuckle. “I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.”

Back at the apartment, we all meet up together to make plans, joined by Jacob and Newt this time.

“From what Jacob tells me, you’re planning quite the expedition,” Newt says.

“You’re in, I take it?” I ask.

“Of course,” Newt says. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

I’m feeling pretty good about things up until we head down to the coast and I take a look at the transportation they’ve concocted for us. An old, repurposed fishing scow that would look barely seaworthy if I couldn’t detect the runes engraved on every edge of it.

“Do we really have to go by water?” I ask. “I hate boats.”

“No help for it,” Remus says. “Muggle air travel isn’t cheap and widely available yet, and besides, we needed better control over our itinerary.”

“Couldn’t we have used magical air travel, though?” I wonder. “I hate boats!”

“Not without potentially attracting undue attention,” Remus says. “Don’t worry. She’s faster than she looks.”

I groan. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Fortunately, they’ve already installed a hatch leading down into a large, comfortable living area. Not quite so excessively opulent as the apartment, without Abraxas on the job. It has Remus’ signature style, of being cozy and functional without going overboard on it. There’s a “common room” with plenty of couches and armchairs, a “war room” with a large magical map spread out on a table, a combined kitchen and dining area, and bedrooms for everyone.

“I didn’t see much point in even pretending that this is a normal living area,” Remus comments. “I had to use a modified version of the normal Muggle-Repelling Charm, too, so that Jacob would even be able to see the hatch.”

“Thanks,” Jacob says.

We gather around the table in the war room, where the map has already been marked with the places Gellert took Jacob and colored proximity circles around each spot.

“I don’t really feel much sway of the water,” I say. “You put inertial dampening charms in the living area, didn’t you.”

“Of course,” Remus says. “There was no need for you to be spending the entire trip vomiting or semi-conscious. We’ve got a lot of sailing to do.”

“Thanks,” I say. “You’ve thought of everything. Great work on all of this. Will Tom be joining us for any of this?”

“Merope and he will be joining us shortly,” Remus says. “Sirius is going to Apparate them here.”

“Merope is coming, too?”

“We weren’t going to sail off with Tom without her,” Remus says.

“How much did you tell her?” I wonder.

“Sirius explained the time travel thing, to some extent,” Remus says. “He explained that that was how we knew to find her. Per Tom’s request, however, we have not mentioned that he is also from the future.”

“Surely she at least suspects something,” I say. “Didn’t you guys tell her that Tom has innate Time Magic?”

“Yes, we used that as the explanation for why we were interested in safeguarding him,” Remus says. “We left that implication there, at least.”

“Ugh, why does Tom always insist on covering his existence in lies?” I mutter, not that I really have any place to judge.

Remus shakes his head. “I think he enjoys them. I think he’s so ashamed of the life he actually lived that he grasps at any chance for a different life.”

“I guess I can understand that,” I say. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come back to bite him again.”

“Indeed,” Remus agrees.

They arrive shortly, Tom walking at his mother’s side. Although he was only born a year ago, he looks like he’s at least four.

“Tom?” I say, a grin spreading across my face. “My, you’re getting so big already!”

“He is!” Merope says gleefully. “It’s that Time Magic you mentioned. And he’s so smart!”

“Hello,” Tom says with the most innocent smile I have ever seen on his face at any age.

“What was it you said you were looking for?” Merope asks me. “An Atlantean artifact?”

I nod. “Exactly. We’re not sure where it is, but we’ve got a device that should let us know when we get close, so we’ll be sailing all over.”

“Sailing!” Tom exclaims, running up to the railing.

Merope snatches him up before he can get too far. “Come on now, stay away from the water. Let’s head down and meet the other children, shall we?” They head down into the living area.

Newt climbs up once they’re down. “Is that everyone? This will be quite the expedition.”

“That should be everyone, but I’ll do a quick head-count just to be sure before we go,” I say.

“We have more than enough supplies to last us all several months even if we don’t stop anywhere,” Remus says. “But we shouldn’t be gone several months and we’ll probably wind up stopping in places along the way.”

“The kids will probably need to get back to school once summer is done with,” Sirius says.

Before we set sail, however, someone else appears on the dock and approaches us. It occurs to me that we have not been nearly as subtle as we could have been in this time. Despite being much younger and healthier, and not current wearing purple, I still immediately recognize Albus Dumbledore.

“Ah, Albus!” Newt says. “Are you here to see us off? Or were you planning on joining us?”

“I find myself quite interested in this Atlantean artifact,” Albus says.

“Just how many people know about this?” I wonder.

Albus chuckles. “Be assured that your expedition is not widely known.” He turns his gaze to Gellert, standing beside me as tense as a spring. “Percival, I had not known you had an interest in archaeology, nor in teaching.”

“Well, Albus, you could say I’m just full of surprises,” Gellert says.

“Indeed?” Albus says. With a flick of his wand and a mumbled word, Gellert’s hair bleeds into blond and his face morphs into the form I’m more familiar with.

“Gellert Grindelwald?” Newt takes a step back in alarm and his wand whips into his hand to train it on him.

Gellert holds up his hands and does not reach for his wand or make any aggressive move. “Hello, Albus. It’s good to see you again.”

“Is it really?” Albus says. “After all you’ve done?”

Gellert sighs. “That whole campaign was a terrible idea. I let it go, changed my identity, and moved to the New World. I intend no harm. What more do you want of me?”

“How can we be sure of that?” Newt asks.

Albus turns to me, Sirius, and Remus, who look alarmed but have not drawn wands. “Did you know about this?”

I raise a hand and give a casual wave. “I knew. I’m his new boyfriend. I redeemed him with the power of love.”

“You can’t be serious,” Newt says.

“Well…” Sirius drawls.

“Not a word,” Remus says with a snort.

“Do you really expect anyone to believe that?” Newt asks. “What about that time travel business?”

Gellert nods. “Spending fifty years in prison can make one rethink their poor life choices.”

“Time travel?” Albus repeats. “You… came back in time?”

“From 1993,” Gellert replies. “You defeated me, locked me up, became headmaster at Hogwarts, had a brand new Dark Lord show up and start causing problems, he got blown up by an infant, and a bunch of shit happened that made no sense. This man here got me out of prison and gave me a second chance, and I would have been a fool not to take it.”

“This is a little hard to believe,” Newt says. “And not just because Grindelwald is apparently a homosexual.”

Albus and Gellert lock eyes for several long moments, and I would not need to be able to feel the Force or see the indigo streaks of Mind Magic to tell what was going on there. Gellert remains calm and lowers his hands slowly.

“I believe him,” Dumbledore finally says, then whispers, “Ariana forgive me, but I believe him.”

“You believe him?” Newt repeats, not taking his wand off of Gellert yet.

“There’s too much he could not, or would not, have made up,” Albus says. “And too much that he would have had no way of knowing.”

“Thank you,” Gellert says, bowing his head to Albus. “There was so much I regretted, so much I wanted to change. It’s hard to believe what an arrogant fool I was before.” He pauses. “I’m calling myself Phoenix these days. The one reborn in fire.”

“Phoenix,” Albus repeats. “When you are not being Percival Graves?”

“When I’m being myself,” Gellert says. “It was a name given to me by a girl who sees many things most cannot, and I appreciate it.”

“Out of curiosity,” I wonder. “How did you even suspect this, Albus?”

“The real Percival Graves has never met me,” Albus replies. “And there were other things that seemed strange about the whole matter.”

“There’s a real Percival Graves?” Newt asks.

“He’s fine, don’t worry,” Gellert says. “I didn’t murder him. I Obliviated him and sent him to Australia.”

“That’s hardly better than murder,” Sirius comments.

“He can’t teach the class I’m teaching, and I’m not going to tell Ilvermorny that I was Grindelwald.”

“What _are_ you teaching?” Albus asks. “I heard something about some strange fairy-magic.”

“Something I actually learned in the future,” Gellert asks. “From someone who was from another universe.”

“I didn’t think that actually sounded like any fairy-magic I’d ever heard of,” Newt says.

“It’s not ‘dark’ if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Gellert says. “It’s just… different.”

“We can give you a demonstration if you like,” I say. “Though, we’re not very good at it yet. Waving a wand and saying some words is _easy_ next to this stuff.”

“I shall avail you of the opportunity, then,” Albus says. “I believe I should accompany you on this voyage.”

“The more the merrier, I say,” Sirius says.

“I put in a few extra bedrooms just in case we got additional unexpected guests,” Remus says.

“I am not so sure about traveling with Grindelwald, even if he claims to be reformed,” Newt says. “But if you’re coming along, Albus, I will remain aboard.”

“Guess I’ll have to explain to the others why I’m suddenly blond,” Gellert says.

“Did _they_ know who you were?” Newt asks.

“Some of them,” Gellert says. “The ones who came back in time with me. Odin’s eyeball, Luna would have known who I was just from glancing at me.”

Newt goes over to Albus and asks, “You’re not afraid of this being a trap?”

“I assure you, Newton, I can handle myself, although I appreciate the consideration,” Albus says.

“Well, if we’re not going to be attempting to kill one another, can we reconvene in the war room?” I say. “I mean, the meeting room. Map room. Place.”

“You are not being very convincing about meaning no harm,” Newt comments.

“It’s only called the war room so I can tell people not to fight in there,” Gellert says lightly.

“Whatever it’s called, I would prefer this conversation to take place belowdecks or ashore, or I will be regurgitating my breakfast,” I say.

Albus chuckles, and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Come, then. Let us see this ‘war room’.”

We head down, thankfully before the gentle movement of the docked ship gets to me too badly. Albus circles around the large world map in the center of the war room, and Gellert briefly explains what the markings on it mean.

“What is this artifact you seek?” Albus asks.

“We don’t know,” Gellert says. “We don’t even know whether this whole trip will be worthwhile or just a waste of everyone’s time.”

“Surely you think it has a good chance of being quite the prize, or you would not have bothered,” Albus says.

“True,” Gellert says with a shrug.

“One might think that you were still attempting to take over the world,” Albus says.

Gellert groans. “No. No. _Hell_ no.”

“World domination is really overrated,” I say.

“Undoing my mistakes wasn’t the only reason we came back in time,” Gellert says. “I’ll tell you everything I know. This Atlantean artifact is really just a potential lead for something that _might_ help with our real objective here. Let me tell you about a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback…”


	17. Come Sail Away

“So, Harry, how did you meet Gellert?” Albus asks me when we’re alone.

“That’s a long story,” I reply.

“Give me the short version, then,” Albus says.

“In one alternate future, he was given a job as professor of History of Magic at Hogwarts,” I say. “He’d been in prison for fifty years at that point and was given a commuted sentence and not allowed to carry a wand.”

“I see,” Albus says.

“That wasn’t _this_ version of him, though, mind you,” I say. “This version, I’d rescued him just because I remembered having been his friend in another timeline, even though he didn’t know me.”

“That must get confusing,” Albus says. “Meddling with time is a dangerous affair. Men greater than us have been driven mad by the prospect.”

“I travel through time whether I will it or not,” I say. “It’s an innate ability to me.”

How many times have I explained this, to Albus and to others? I really hadn’t intended quite so many people in this time to find out. Too late now. The best I can do is avoid the specific mechanisms of it getting out. And there is no way in the fucking Void that I’m going to mention a Nexus.

“What was he like?” Albus asks absently. “In the future.”

I chuckle. “He spent fifty years trapped in a prison with nothing but Muggle entertainment to keep him occupied. It left him a wee bit cracked. If you ever notice him making references to things which make no sense, that would be why.”

“Muggle entertainment?” Albus asks. “Like, plays?”

“Muggles invented a moving-picture box called a ‘television’ that could show things like plays inside them,” I say.

“Fascinating,” Albus says. “Muggles are more ingenuitive than we give them credit for, sometimes.”

“Not just ‘sometimes’,” I say. “You know it’s a Muggle directing this voyage, don’t you?”

“Is it?” Albus raises an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Jacob,” I say.

“And these other wizards don’t seem to mind?” Albus asks. “Not Gellert? Not the Malfoy or the Blacks, either?”

“If anything, I think Gellert kind of adores him,” I comment with a snort. “And not just because he makes the best cookies. The purebloods aren’t batting an eye at anything anymore. Brax doesn’t say anything about Hermione being Muggleborn – especially not with her being one of the best witches I’ve known, time travel and scattered education notwithstanding. You know, for the most part, I think it’s just that most wizards have never really _known_ any Muggles, and the restrictive laws of MACUSA don’t help that, either.”

“Yes, how _did_ you get Jacob around those laws?” Albus wonders.

“Claimed he’s a Squib,” I say with a shrug. “One of the Black children is a Squib, too.”

“You have a Muggle and a Squib on your crew?” Albus asks.

“And a werewolf and a house-elf,” I add. “A house-elf, mind you, who hates doing chores unless he’s really bored and who could put your eye out with a crossbow at a hundred paces.”

“Quite the motley collection,” Albus says.

I lean back against the wall and look over at him consideringly. “Why did you really want to come along?”

“I had indeed been looking for Gellert,” Albus says. “And I will admit that the situation has me intrigued. But I would like to see what you are doing for myself.”

I grin. “Well, I have nothing to hide that you don’t already know.”

“And Gellert having been in hiding was, of course, understandable,” Albus says. “Of all the things I suspected that he might be getting himself up to, however, this was rather far from it.”

“Nobody ever suspects time travel,” I say.

“What do you know about Atlantis?” Albus asks.

“It was an ancient magical civilization a really long time ago that fell for some reason,” I say.

Albus tsks. “What are they teaching people in school these days?”

“The Goblin Rebellions, mostly,” I say. “And a few wizards with bizarre and pretentious names, like Egbert the Egregious.”

“I will be certain to revise the curriculum once I apparently become headmaster, then,” Albus says.

“Just have someone exorcise Cuthbert Binns,” I say. “And bring in a teacher who is capable of speaking other than in monotone.”

“Have a seat, and I will tell you what I know of Atlantis,” Albus says. “There is a good deal of conjecture and myth surrounding the subject, but there is no disputing that it existed, of course. Wizards herald Atlantis as their first great achievement, even when they cannot agree on just why it fell.”

“Yeah, I think Hermione has digested every book anyone ever wrote that even so much as mentioned Atlantis,” I say.

“The best accounts place Atlantis in the center of the Atlantic ocean, near the equator,” Albus says. “But no one, Muggle or magical, has ever managed to locate anything there. Perhaps this device might finally be able to pinpoint Atlantis itself.”

“I’m not placing any bets.”

“The Atlanteans primarily used crystal-based magic,” Albus says. “Of a sort wholly unlike any we use today. The handful of artifacts they left behind are mainly used as collector’s pieces, as the secret to their activation has long been lost. They’ve been said to only be usable by those with the blood of old Atlantis, but it seems you’ve found someone who can use them.”

“Among Muggles and Muggleborns,” I say.

“It seems no one ever thought to look there,” Albus says with a twinkle in his eye. “The Atlanteans were, so far as we know, human, or sufficiently human-like to be indistinguishable at a glance. But they lived a very long time ago. Ten thousand years, at minimum, possibly forty thousand or more. Their loss set us back to sticks and stones. We had to re-develop magic from scratch.”

“But if there were refugees from Atlantis among the general human population, would they not have had knowledge of Atlantean magic and technology?” I wonder.

“They may have been, effectively, bastard children,” Albus says.

“Or they simply weren’t able to rebuild without the existing infrastructure,” I muse. “I mean, most people these days would not know how to mine iron, smelt it, and forge a sword out of it. Rebuilding would be difficult if you don’t have the foundation upon which the rest of civilization is built.”

“This is also true,” Albus says.

“And no one has any idea what caused their fall?” I ask.

“A single day and night of misfortune,” Albus says. “Beyond that, speculation is rampant. Some believe it to have been a cascade failure in their city’s magic. Others think it was corruption and betrayal from within. Still others hold to the notion that Atlantis never really fell, but went into hiding.”

“I guess it might be hard to find out,” I say.

“Barring time travel,” Albus says, eyes twinkling.

“I don’t know if I _can_ go back that far,” I say. “Or _how_ , if it’s possible.”

“You have a clever band, here,” Albus says. “I have faith that they could figure out how to do anything they set their minds to.”

“You’re not jealous or anything, are you?” I ask. “About me and Gellert?”

Albus shakes his head. “I might have been, once. But now? It’s almost a relief, to be perfectly honest with you.”

I say quietly, “He really did care about you, you know. But it’s all probably for the best.”

“He has changed,” Albus says. “He seems calmer, more stable. Happier, even. I have not heard him mention the ‘Greater Good’ even once.” He looks at me solemnly. “You are a good influence on him, I think.”

I bark a laugh. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I took over the universe, once. Terrible idea. Things fell apart, my apprentice betrayed me, my enemies captured me and memory-wiped me and tried to use me, a bunch of stuff happened, started a magic school, traveled through time. All of that.”

“Maybe you should stick to saying ‘long story’,” Gellert says from the doorway, grinning. “Your summaries make even less sense.”

“Oh, like you can talk,” I say. “I got the shitty summary habit from _you_.”

“Did you?” Gellert says. “Hmm. Or did I get it from _you_?”

“Hello, Gellert,” Albus says.

“Ahoy, Albus,” Gellert says, giving a casual wave. “Loki’s tits, man, have I mentioned you look so _young_?”

“I would imagine that I looked quite old in 1993,” Albus says.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Gellert says. “Maybe I should fake my own death. Get the world to stop worrying about Grindelwald. You could say you defeated me. You walk home a hero. I go on my merry way, minding my own business.”

“There may need to be witnesses,” Albus says. “And I might need to take your wand, for it to be believable.”

Gellert pulls out the Elder Wand and offers it to him. “Sure, you can have it.”

Albus blinks at it.

“Gellert, you know it doesn’t work like that,” I say with a smirk. “He can’t master the Elder Wand if he doesn’t defeat you, and that won’t work if you just _let_ him have it.”

“Well, it’ll still be a perfectly good wand even if he doesn’t,” Gellert says with a shrug.

“I’m surprised that you would give up the Elder Wand so readily,” Albus says. “What happened to your search for the Deathly Hallows?”

“Oh, I have the other two in my pocket,” Gellert says. “Resurrection Stone and Cloak of Invisibility? Turns out they weren’t all that special.”

“I suppose one way to assuage an obsession is to fulfill it and be underwhelmed,” Albus says with a chuckle.

“They’re _useful_ , sure,” Gellert says. “Powerful, even. But there’s things more important than power.”

“Are you certain you are Gellert Grindelwald?” Albus says.

Gellert grins at him. “You can have them, if you like. I don’t really need them, and I probably won’t be able to take them with me when we leave this timeline.”

“You’re planning on leaving?” Albus asks.

Gellert nods. “One way or another. I really have no desire to remain in this world, not when there’s so much else out there I’ve never seen. Regardless, as I’ve told Harry, setting right the timeline will almost certainly cause a paradox backlash that will knock us into the Void. Even if it somehow doesn’t… I’m still going to leave.”

Albus is quiet for a long moment before asking, “The Resurrection Stone. Could it bring back Ariana?”

Gellert lets out a heavy breath. “The short answer is no. The long answer is maybe, but that’s not all that would be necessary. The realistic answer is that even if we were able to resurrect her, she would still be damaged. It would not fix everything that was wrong with her.”

“Then, time travel?” Albus asks. “You came back in time this far. Could you not have gone back far enough to prevent – to prevent what happened?”

“I could have,” Gellert says. “I was trying to get close to our goal of 1933.”

“Could you… send _me_ back?” Albus asks softly.

“Well…” Gellert says, glancing at me.

I nod. “I can. Do you want to go?”

“I never expected that to be a possible answer to that sort of question,” Albus says, taken aback.

“It’s possible,” Gellert says. “But honestly, how far back can one go to fix all of their mistakes? If you could live your entire life over again, you’d just wind up making different mistakes the second time around that you would also regret and want to fix.” He shakes his head. “Not to discourage you, if that’s what you really want to do.”

“My experience is that trying to ‘fix’ how things went often makes things worse, or at least completely different,” I say.

“Is what you are doing now not trying to ‘fix’ things?” Albus asks.

“It’s… different,” I say. “Normally, timelines split off when things are changed in the past, leaving the original timeline intact and unchanged. To your perspective, things have changed, and that’s generally good enough, though. But what we’re doing here is preventing Jez’kai from becoming a god in _any_ timeline, because if he succeeds in one, he seems to have retroactively given himself powers in all timelines. I’m not even going to _pretend_ to know how in the Void he managed to do that. Regardless, what we’re doing will require more than simply making him not be born – simply murdering his mother would accomplish that. We have to wipe him from existence.”

“Funny thing about all this is,” Gellert says, strolling across the room to lean on the map. “Jez’kai’s not the real problem. I mean, sure, he’s an asshole and it’s best to keep him from fucking with shit like he has. The real problem was a vampire hunter by the name of Falk, who, upon ousting Jez’kai and taking the reins over the universe, effectively stifled monsters and wizards. In the name of the ‘Greater Good’.”

Albus winces.

“He thought he was doing a good thing,” Gellert says with a sigh. “And for that, he destroyed magic and crushed free will.”

“Falk was a more clever fellow than Jez’kai,” I say. “Couldn’t he have done the same thing? Retroactively made himself immortal?”

“He retroactively shut down branching timelines,” Gellert says. “He shut down time travel. Normally that would have been enough.”

“If this Falk retroactively shut down time travel, then how did _you_ travel back?” Albus wonders.

“A guy who was outside his range of effect pulled a fast one on him,” I say. “And used me to break it. Without telling me what he was doing.” I snort softly. “I have the innate power of alternate universes. That basically left me as the only one who could fix this mess.”

“The _only_ one?” Albus wonders.

“So far as I know, my power is unique in all the multiverse,” I say. “It’s a little overwhelming sometimes. I have never encountered even the slightest rumor or myth of anyone else doing anything even remotely similar.”

“What about alternate versions of yourself?” Albus asks.

I stare at him. “I suppose those would count, but as I haven’t personally encountered any and don’t think it’s even possible to do so, it’s hard to judge.”

“If you truly need to eliminate this threat in every timeline, would you not need your own assistance in doing so?” Albus asks.

I gape at him. “Time Magic gives me a headache, and _I’m_ a Time Mage.”

“Do you not think other versions of yourself are also working toward a common goal?” Albus asks.

“I have not the foggiest idea,” I say.

“Do you think there are other Harry Potters somewhere out there, in time and space, who also seek to destroy a Dark Lord who cannot be destroyed?” Albus says.

I put my hand on my forehead. “I really hope, when this is all said and done, that I never have to so much as _think_ about working together with my alternate selves to solve a problem. Ever again.”

* * *

A few days into the trip, I notice that everyone seems to have acquired practice sabers and they’re all converging in one of the side rooms. Strange, nobody had mentioned including a fencing room, and I don’t remember seeing that room there before. Albus notices as well, and looks at me, raising his eyebrow. I just shrug helplessly, indicating that I don’t know either, and follow them in.

“Welcome, my Padawans!” Gellert says cheerfully.

“Technically, they’re _my_ Padawans,” Rispy puts in. “You’re just my assistant.”

“Welcome, my Padawans!” Gellert repeats, undeterred.

“Why do I have a wooden sword?” Jacob asks.

“To practice fencing with,” Gellert replies.

“Why do I need to learn fencing?” Jacob wonders.

“You are here to learn to use a lightsaber,” Gellert says. “Not simply any sword.” He ignites his orange lightsaber and holds it aloft. “A _magic_ sword.”

“It is more useful than you might believe,” Abraxas says. “I have seen them use lightsabers to block spells and to cast spells that do not require fine wandwork.”

“Yo, Albus!” Gellert calls. “Grab a waster and join in.”

“Are you… training an army here?” Albus wonders.

“I’m training _Jedi_ ,” Gellert replies.

“Jedi?” Albus repeats in confusion.

“Noble knights and peacekeepers,” Gellert says.

“The Jedi don’t exist in this world and this time,” I comment.

“They do now!” Gellert says. “Listen. You all need to be able to defend yourselves. And a lightsaber is better at defense than a wand. Plus, people can use a lightsaber who can’t use wands or aren’t all that good at spellcasting, like Harry here.”

“Thank you for that stunning assessment of my spellwork,” I reply dryly.

Gellert gives me a cheeky grin. “He’s a nightmare with a lightsaber, though. Bet he can hold off a whole army on his own if he has a mind to.”

“Well, it’s not to say that I don’t have anything to learn from a class like this, either,” I say, lifting a practice sword out of the rack without touching it. “Shall we spar?”

Using a telekinetic hand to wield a weapon requires strength, finesse, and sustained concentration. My former Jedi teacher, Arren Kae, was capable of wielding at least three floating lightsabers at one time in this manner. Right now, I’ll be happy with one.

Everyone in the room has a different level of mastery, between Abraxas, who is probably ready for a lightsaber of his own, to Marius, who could barely lift the larger practice swords and had to be given one that’s effectively a dagger. After a little bit, Albus and I pull Gellert aside to talk to him while Rispy directs the group.

“Are you certain that it is wise to teach a young boy how to fight like this?” Albus asks Gellert quietly.

“He’s a Squib, Albus,” Gellert mutters. “ _This_ is something he can actually do.”

“Phoenix,” I whisper. “You know they aren’t going to really be able to use lightsabers to their full potential, don’t you? They’re not Force-sensitive. Sure, they can swing it like a sword, but they’re not going to be blocking spells with them.”

Gellert deflates. “Well, I was kind of hoping, but yeah, I guess. Still, it’s a magic sword, and they’re perfectly capable of using a magic sword so long as they just know how to use a sword at all, right?”

“That’s true, I suppose,” I say. “They could as easily use a blaster or firearm, though.”

“Well, yeah, I guess,” Gellert says. “But they’re also harder to conceal and more obviously weapons.”

“And capable of being used at range,” I add.

“Is giving a small child a ranged weapon a better proposition than giving him a sword?” Albus wonders, a little incredulously.

“Marius is actually older than most younglings are when they start Jedi training,” I say. “But, that’s _Force_ training. Magic. Learning how to use a sword, magic or otherwise, isn’t going to make him stop being a Squib.”

“But…” Gellert begins, then trails off.

I sigh and put my face in my palm. “Teach them to use a sword if you like. Just don’t expect anything more out of it.”

Marius seems to be having fun with it, at least. Jacob dropped out early, not having been all that interested and it being more of an amusing diversion than anything else.

I go over and spar with my telekinetically wielded sword with Hermione. I know very well she would not have normally been interested in fencing, but after everything she’s seen, I’d imagine that she has a different perspective on it. And if anyone can perfect lightsaber casting, it’s Hermione. I’d really like to see how she can overcome the difficulties in requiring precise wand movements for more complex spells, or adapt them to more Force-like techniques.

I’m going to need a lot more practice with telekinesis, though. The Jedi might look down on overusing it, but the best way to get practice and have it become reflexive is to use it for as much as you can get away with, trying to never use your hands for anything so that you can get the necessary manual dexterity with your telekinetic hands.

As I wonder to myself why Squibs exist, and why Muggles who know about magic are unable to learn to use it, my thoughts turn back to some things Falk said about the nature of magic and belief. I’m missing something here, and I don’t know what it is.

Magic clearly runs in bloodlines, but a Squib has a magical bloodline without being able to use magic. And yet… I’m a dragon who can’t turn into a dragon. Luna suggested that I had some sort of block. Do Squibs have a block that keeps them from using their inherent magic? Is there something defective in their blood? We were able to activate Marius’ magic with a complex potion in one timeline, one we sadly have no hope of repeating in this timeline.

In Terrestia, the serviles had been Shaped to be unable to use magic. Because everyone in Terrestia can learn to use magic, otherwise. How can everyone learn magic if magic is dependent upon a bloodline?

But it isn’t just the belief of the individual in question that matters. Reality isn’t merely shaped by the will of a single person. We have to obey the rules of whatever reality we wind up in. And in this reality, magic depends upon bloodlines, while in Terrestia, it does not. And with the Jedi… I don’t even know what makes someone Force sensitive, honestly, so I can’t comment on that too much. Most Jedi don’t have children, and people who aren’t Force sensitive can’t just learn to use the Force, so my best guess is that it’s unrelated to bloodlines and simply something some people are born with and some people aren’t.

Like the serviles in Terrestia, Squibs have defective genes that prevent them from being able to use magic, despite having been from a magical bloodline. Although honestly, at this point, discovering what defective gene is blocking their magic is a little bit beyond me. I’m not sure that I would even be able to Shape the simplest of Terrestia’s creations at the moment without putting a lot of practice into relearning it. It’s definitely one of those things that I know I once knew how to do but no longer really know how anymore.

Hermione gently pokes me in the forehead with her practice sword. “Are you paying attention, Harry?”

I telekinetically poke her in the nose. “Sorry, mind wandering for a moment there.”

* * *

We sail. Jacob checks the artifact regularly for any sign that we’re getting close, and each time comes up with nothing. I really hope that the range on that ability is as good as he thinks it is, otherwise we’re going to be spending a lot more time covering enough ground to pinpoint our destination.

We sail along the coast of Africa and around the Cape of Good Hope, and Jacob senses nothing. We sail around Australia and up past Japan, and Jacob senses nothing. We sail across to Alaska and down the west coast of America.

“I’ve got something!” Jacob exclaims.

“Where is it?” I ask.

“Somewhere in Central America,” Jacob says. “Can’t be sure where just yet, but we’re definitely getting closer to it now.”

“Alright, now we’re getting somewhere,” Gellert says with a broad grin. “Let’s see about finding a good place on the coast to land.”

“And here I thought we were going to be on this boat forever,” I say. “Of course it has to be in the last place we look.”

“Well, yeah,” Sirius says. “Because you wouldn’t bother looking after the last place, right?”

I roll my eyes at him. “You know what I mean.”

“On the up side, at least it did not turn out to be in Antarctica,” Abraxas says. “I can deal with Central America.”


	18. Down in the Jungle

“I hate Central America,” Abraxas grumbles.

“You could have stayed with the boat with the others, you know,” I point out.

Our team for tackling this particular stretch of rainforest is comprised of part of my motley crew, the remainder having been left behind to watch the ship or because taking small children into a dangerous jungle seemed like a bad idea. Jacob and Hermione are needed to use the Atlantean artifact, while Gellert, Albus, and Abraxas provide fire support. Sirius is mapping the area, Cassie has come along for healing duty, and Rispy is scouting our perimeter. Last but not least, Newt is providing valuable information on the local wildlife, ensuring that Rispy needs to shoot fewer things with his crossbow.

This, of course, required that someone had to stay with the boat to make sure it was still there when we returned. Not to mention that there was no way Merope was going to let Tom go on a dangerous trip into a monster-infested jungle, and neither did Gellert want Credence to come in here either. I felt the same way about Luna, but, not being her father, I could only gently suggest that she stay back and watch from the shore, to which she thankfully agreed. I felt terrible about it, though. The Antarctica trip was bad enough, but this place seems even more dangerous, albeit not in the same way, since we’re fully capable of using our magic here.

“It’s frustrating,” Hermione says, clenching the crystal device. “Even knowing that the artifact is close, I still can’t get this thing to do anything more than light up for me.”

“Maybe it’ll become more clear once we discover it,” I say.

We proceed to spend the next several days stomping around the jungle in circles, which would be much more annoying if we didn’t have a magic tent and an expert in avoiding pissing off the local wildlife.

“So, you’re not going to like this,” Jacob says, pointing off toward a spot where a group of feathered serpents are milling about. “I’m detecting the artifact right over there.”

“Coatls,” Newt says.

“Tell me they’re peaceful and friendly,” I say dryly.

“Ah, well, I don’t think they’re going to just let us waltz into their nest,” Newt says.

“They were probably drawn by the energy from the Atlantean artifact,” Gellert suggests.

“Any way to convince them to leave?” I ask, looking to Newt.

“Well, you’re the one who can speak Parseltongue,” Newt points out.

“Right, and what’s plan B if that doesn’t work out?” I wonder.

“We’ll think of something,” Gellert says, slapping me on the back.

“Okay, so apparently the plan is that I get eaten and we reset and try something else,” I say. “Good to know. Can we at least set up camp and take a nap first so we don’t have to go trudging through this section of the jungle again?”

“Fine, fine,” Gellert says, still grinning.

We had had to explain how my power actually worked to Newt, Jacob, and Albus. I didn’t like it, I still don’t like it, but I really didn’t feel like bullshitting away ‘visions of the future’ again. If they’re going to travel with us, they ought to know what we can do. It avoids unfortunate situations where they decide to do something stupidly heroic in an attempt to save us from a fate that won’t be permanent. If we tell them to run, they’d better well run, and not think it necessary to sacrifice themselves to save us.

We move far enough away that the coatls aren’t likely to detect us, and put up some extra charms. The tent is already spelled to make it less likely to noticed as anything interesting, which despite its usual name, Gellert keeps insisting on calling the ‘Somebody Else’s Problem’ charm. That, however, only really works on Muggles and mundane animals. It takes a good deal more effort to hide something from wizards and magical beasts.

“Now, coatls are very vain,” Newt tells me. “Compliment them. They also believe bright colors are auspicious, and pale or dull colors are signs of misfortune and ill health. I recommend changing your clothes to the brightest, most vibrant colors you can come up with.”

“Allow me,” Gellert says, brandishing his wand at me. “One Hawaiian shirt coming right up. _Colovaria_.” I suddenly find myself wearing an electric blue shirt, with yellow and hot pink flowers on it, and my pants have become covered in images of red and blue parrots perched amongst green leaves.

“Excellent, that should do nicely,” Newt says.

“You know, normally I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something like this,” I say with a smirk.

“Nah, you have no shame,” Gellert says.

“Point,” I say. “Alright, I’m going down for a power nap now.”

* * *

Cautiously, I head out toward the coatl nest, leaving the others hidden inconspicuously nearby. I realize, however, that trying to sneak dressed like this is impossible and they might react to that badly anyway, so I give up on the idea of stealth and just stride toward their nest and stop a safe distance nearby to wave at them.

“Hello, beautiful ones!” I hiss at them in Parseltongue. As it turns out, Parseltongue is no good for yelling in.

A red-and-blue coatl approaches me curiously, leaving the other three behind guarding the nest. “What do you want?” it hisses back at me. He? She? I have no idea how to check the sex of a feathered serpent and I don’t know whether males and/or females usually guard their nests.

“Well, you see,” I begin. “I’m looking for a thing that happens to be in your nest, and I hate to be a bother but –”

“Stay away from our nest, man-creature,” the coatl warns.

“I don’t want to hurt your nest,” I say. “I just want something that’s in it.”

“You will not take our eggs!” The coatl shrieks and snaps at me with its strong jaws.

* * *

I wake in my tent. “Ugh, okay, that could have gone better.”

“What happened?” Newt wonders.

“I’m going back out there and try _not_ to imply that I want their eggs,” I say.

“Do you need a hand with that?” Newt asks.

“If I get killed again, yeah,” I say. “I want to give it another shot, though.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re far too casual about that?” Albus says.

“Yep, usually you,” I say. “Except when you’re wanting to use it to fix something yourself.”

Albus goes quiet and makes no further comments.

I head out back to near the coatl nest and whistle to them to get their attention. “Hey there, beautiful!”

“We’re not looking for mates right now,” a yellow-and-green coatl replies.

I really need to come up with some way to compliment them without it sounding like a proposition.

“I just need your help with something,” I say. “I’m certain that such lovely creatures could be of assistance, if you’d deign to spare a moment of your time for someone like me.”

A purple-and-red coatl approaches me this time and examines me appraisingly, perhaps appreciating my stupid shirt. Hopefully.

“What do you want, man-creature?” the coatl asks.

Maybe not appreciating it as much as I might have hoped. “Ah, magnificent one, whose brilliant mind is only surpassed by her glorious plumage…” The coatl preens. I assume female was the correct assumption. “Although it pains me to say, I must request of you a boon. I am willing to offer whatever compensation is necessary. Tell me, please, is there anything in your nest besides your gorgeous eggs? I have no interest in harming you or your eggs, of course, but there is an object that I am looking for that I think may be around here, if you have seen it.”

“We have coins and jewels,” the coatl says. “Are you looking to trade for them?”

“No, the object I’m looking for is an ancient artifact made by the humans who lived very-long-ago,” I explain. “I don’t know precisely what it looks like, but I’ll know it when I see it. Have you seen any such thing, perhaps made of crystal or metal?”

“How can you hope to find something if you don’t know what you’re looking for?” the coatl says.

“My friend has a device that tells us how far away it is,” I say. “It led us here.”

“Perhaps what you’re looking for is one of the pieces of jewelry we’ve collected,” the coatl says. “Go get your friend, and we will bring out some of our pieces for you to look at.”

I go back over to where Jacob and the others are situated, make sure that he’s wearing suitably garish clothing, and drag him back to the spot a distance away from the nest the coatls have arranged to set up a trade. Newt comes along with us as well. I graciously lay out in front of them some of the things I’m offering in trade as well – coins, gems, jewelry and such as well. We still have plenty that we hadn’t converted into local currency yet, just in case of things like this. I picked out the most brightly colored gems and gold.

“It’s not any of these,” Jacob says, waving the crystal device over the objects the coatl lays out for us. “I’m still detecting it in the direction of the nest.”

“These aren’t what we’re looking for,” I translate to the coatls in Parseltongue.

“You want our eggs!?” the red-and-blue coatl shrieks, having approached to see what the purple-and-red coatl is doing.

“No! No, no, no,” I hastily assure them. “We would never seek to harm your beautiful eggs.”

“What are they saying?” Jacob asks. “Should I run yet?”

Purple-and-red turns to red-and-blue and hisses, “Go soak your head! These humans have been nothing but polite. I won’t have you make me lose out on a good trade just because you’re paranoid about our eggs! None of them are even yours!”

Note to self, if I wind up having to do this over, talk to the greedy one and not the angry one.

“I think it’s alright,” I whisper to Jacob in English as red-and-blue slithers off in a huff, and translate for him and Newt.

“Now then, sorry about that,” purple-and-red says, gathering up her items. “I wonder what else it could be, then?”

“I don’t suppose you would be willing to move your eggs and hoard so that we can take a closer look at the area?” I say. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I can offer a lot more in compensation for the trouble.”

“Oh, they won’t be happy about that, not happy at all,” the coatl says, then sniffs at Jacob and Newt thoughtfully. “How many other humans do you have hiding nearby?”

“Quite a few,” I say. “Several wizards and an elf. We didn’t want to startle you and wanted to attempt diplomacy and trade first.”

“First?” the coatl says. “Hmm, you’re not going to give this up, are you.”

“Nope,” I say. “I’m afraid we’re not leaving until we find the artifact.”

“Most humans would have just stormed in with spells and weapons,” the coatl says. “We coatls don’t like confrontation. Sometimes we manage to bribe them to leave us alone. If your whole group had just come at us with spells blazing, we’d have just grabbed our eggs and fled.”

“What, you’d just abandon your hoard?” I wonder.

“The shinies are pretty, but not worth our safety,” the coatl says. “Not to suggest that you should just do that. I’ll happily take a bribe for a change instead of having to give out one.”

“Your friend over there didn’t seem to mind confrontation,” I point out.

“Oh, she’s all talk. She wouldn’t start a fight unless she thought she vastly overpowered her opponent.”

“Good to know,” I say with a sigh. “Alright, how about we leave these shinies here with you and head back to our camp and give you a chance to clear out, then? Sorry again for the trouble.”

“Thank you,” the coatl says. “Moving is not a bother when you’re so generous about it.”

I head back to the camp to give the others the news.

“That was about the best outcome we could hope for,” Newt says. “This has been a fascinating insight into coatl behavior. It’s a pity Luna wasn’t here to see it. She’d have been delighted.”

“Yeah…” I mumble. I silently promise myself that I won’t leave her behind again, not even for her own ‘safety’, as if that’s even a concern the way things are.

As we’re settling in to rest and have lunch while waiting for the coatls to vacate the area, the red-and-blue one flies in to our camp, hissing indignantly at us.

“How dare you think – oh, there’s a lot of you, isn’t there,” the coatl says.

“What’s he want?” Gellert wonders.

“She’s just blustering, but have a spell ready,” I say. “Scare her, don’t kill her.” I switch to Parseltongue and address the coatl, “Yes, and we’re all wizards.” That part is a bluff, sure, but our wizards are also stronger than average, too. “I don’t want to have to hurt you, but we’ll defend ourselves if we have to.”

“Why would you come to bargain with us if you were capable of just taking what you want, like you man-creatures always do?” the coatl demands.

“Because not all humans are cloacas,” I reply.

The coatl lets out a disgusted noise. “Well, I’m not going to risk my feathers fighting all of you, but that’s the only reason I’m leaving! Don’t let it get to your head!”

As the red-and-blue coatl flies off, I turn to translate our conversation for the others.

“You should’ve let me fire a warning shot,” Gellert says.

“You cannot solve every problem with violence,” Albus says.

“Nah, just scare him a little,” Gellert says.

“I think she was already scared, just seeing all of us,” I say. “I really didn’t come here to bully the locals, though, human or otherwise. Let’s just get some food and rest. They’ll probably have cleared out by tomorrow, and the next morning is soon enough to go take a look and see what they were sitting on.”

“Provided they don’t take the artifact with them,” Gellert says.

“If they do, we’ll find that out, then, and go track them down and offer to purchase it,” I say. “Not like we wouldn’t be able to find them again if they had it with them, with Jacob’s device.”

“If it’s mine, do I get to keep whatever it is we find?” Jacob wonders.

“We’ll have to figure out what it’s good for once we find it,” I say. “If it’s a baking oven of the ancients, it’s all yours.”

* * *

“I could swear it’s right here!” Jacob says, throwing his hands in the air and pacing around in circles inside the former coatl nest. “According to the device, we’re standing right on top of it!”

“Then we probably _are_ standing right on top of it,” Gellert says, pointing down.

“Shall we start digging, then?” Rispy says.

“We’re _wizards_ ,” Abraxas says, then amends, “And a Squib, a Muggle, and a house-elf. Anyway. Wizards don’t _dig._ ” He waves his wand. “ _Perfodio_.”

The ground parts beneath our feet, causing most of us to lose our balance and quickly stumble back.

“You could have given us some warning first,” Cassie says.

“Warning, I’m going to cast that again,” Abraxas says, but we’re already scrambling well away from the area he’s pointing at.

It takes a few more castings of the Mining Charm, but eventually the dirt pulls away to reveal the tip of what seems to be a large, metallic object.

“Can we pull that out?” I wonder.

“It’s too big to levitate,” Cassie says. “It might be a building.”

“We’ll need to clear out more of the area around it,” Gellert says.

With spells, we construct a stairway up to the jungle floor, and continue to clear out an area around the artifact. It’s definitely too big to levitate out without a group effort, but as we move the dirt out from around it, it begins to take shape. A boxy nose, a broad body, sweeping, curved wings…

“It’s a spaceship,” I declare.

The others stare speechlessly or make awed utterances once we’ve realized what it is, which lasts for about half a minute before we realize there’s no hatch. We start feeling about the vessel to see if there was something we missed, but Jacob just holds aloft the device, flickering rapidly, and a door phases into existence in the side of the ship.

“Well,” I say. “I guess we figured out what that’s for, then. Good work.” I pause, poking my head inside. “Can you fly it, though?”

“I don’t know,” Jacob says. “Let’s find out.”

We pile into the ship and take a look around. It turns out to be somewhat smaller than the Ebon Hawk on the inside, which would leave it too cramped to comfortable house us without expansion charms, although we can stand around in it without any problems. An engine room lies at the back of the ship, housing crystal-based technology unfamiliar to me, but the adjacent supply closet is well stocked with tools and spare parts. On the starboard side, a bunk room holds sleeping space for a crew of four, along with a table and chairs, lockets containing clothes and equipment, and a tiny adjacent bathroom. A cargo hold lies on the port side, containing several crates containing crystals and metal. At the front, a cockpit with two seats, and no clear instruments, but there’s a depression perfectly shaped for Jacob’s device.

“Looks like we found the car keys before we found the car,” Gellert says. “And they’re magic keys that open the door and tell us where we parked.”

Jacob goes up and pushes the device into the slot. The crystals light up, and the instruments whir to life. That triumph lasts for about ten seconds before one screen sputters and winks out again, and we notice several lights flashing red and displaying warnings.

“Can you read this?” Jacob asks me, pointing to the console.

I lean over to take a closer look. “Yeah. It’s telling us life support is offline, artificial gravity and inertial dampeners are offline, hyperdrive is offline, space travel not recommend.”

“So it really _is_ a spaceship,” Gellert says.

“Could this mean that the Atlanteans may not have been destroyed, but simply left this world?” Albus says.

“Very possible,” I say. “If they had this sort of technology, it seems unlikely that some catastrophe on this world would have totally wiped them out. Hell, for all I know, maybe they weren’t even originally from this world to begin with.”

“An interesting hypothesis,” Albus says.

“It sounds like this ship needs a lot of fixing up,” Jacob says.

“Yeah,” I agree. “And this isn’t any sort of technology I’m intimately familiar with. Still, it should be possible to repair most of the systems, replacing them with ones I _am_ familiar with if necessary. But, with all the tools and parts they had stashed away, we might be able to manage.”

“Why would they leave all this behind?” Hermione wonders.

“Maybe it was already damaged and they didn’t have time to repair it,” Jacob suggests.

“Or they were attacked and the ship crashed here,” Abraxas adds.

“No, there wasn’t any sign of collision damage,” I say. “And I’m not seeing any remains on board, either.”

“Perhaps they ran afoul of the local wildlife and couldn’t make it back to their ship,” Newt says.

I nod. “Remains eaten or otherwise decayed in the jungle where no one was going to find them? Seems as likely an answer as we’re going to get at the moment. Jacob, can this bird fly at all, even if just within atmosphere?”

“Eager to see if we can add some actual collision damage to her?” Jacob says.

“Eager to see whether we can move her to another location to work on her or have to keep people here to do it,” I say.

I head back to take a look at the engines. It’s not the sort of technology we used on the Ebon Hawk or other ships of that type, but I’m sure we can figure out how to fix it up. I wonder if they left behind some sort of holocron, or even a paper manual if one might have survived this long. The clothing in the storage lockers seems to have been decently preserved in the sealed, sterile environment.

The engine whirs up, sputters and dies. It does this a few times, and we fail to get off of the ground. I don’t see anything immediately obviously wrong with it, not without knowing how it works to begin with, so I head back up to the cockpit.

“Yeah, we’re not going anywhere, I don’t think,” I say.

“At least nothing exploded,” Abraxas says.

“You’d think things have a habit of exploding around me,” I say.

“They _do_ ,” Abraxas points out.

“Usually that’s intentionally, though,” I reply. “Or semi-intentionally, at least.”

“You’re inspiring a lot of confidence, here,” Jacob says.

“Alright, it looks like we’re going to need to keep people here to work on it,” I say. “At least now that we know where it is, we can Apparate if necessary. What’s the magical government like in – what country are we even in, anyway?”

“Honduras,” Sirius puts in helpfully.

“There really isn’t one, to the best of my knowledge,” Newt says. “We’re well outside of MACUSA’s official jurisdiction. So long as we keep a low profile, no one is likely to bother us, regardless.”

“If we want to keep a low profile, we ought to get Harry back to Ilvermorny as quickly as possible, before he causes something to explode or starts an international incident,” Abraxas says.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Alright, let’s stay here a few more days to examine the ship and see if we can’t get it off the ground or find an owner’s manual or something, and then those of us who are supposed to be little kids can head back to the boat and get ready to go back to school.”

“Marius is going to love this,” Sirius says.

“Do you want me to leave the tent here, or are you going to expand the interior?” I ask.

“We can certainly make the place a little more comfortable before you go,” Sirius says.

“We do not know how that magic of that kind will interact with that of the ship, however,” Albus points out.

“How magical do we think the ship actually is?” Gellert asks.

“Clearly it must be magical, if it requires crystals of that nature to function and is capable of flight of any sort,” Albus says.

“Muggles can build flying machines, you know,” Gellert says. “They’re called airplanes.”

“Is that so?” Albus asks.

“Not to mention I’ve seen plenty of vessels that can fly through the void between the stars, without a spark of magic in them,” I say. “Technology is an amazing thing.”

“I haven’t actually seen the sort of telltale auras you’d see around magic items,” Hermione says. “However this ship runs, it’s not enchanted.”

“Right, it’s probably safe to enchant, but let’s hold off on it for now, I guess,” Sirius says. “Leave the tent, then.” He pauses. “See if you can get Tom to stay. I’ll probably head back to London if he doesn’t.”

I nod. “I’ll talk to him and Merope. I doubt wild pegasi could keep him away from a find like this, though.”

“I’ll Apparate everyone across the jungle who isn’t going back to school. Because fuck trudging through that jungle again,” Gellert says.

“Hear, hear,” Abraxas says.

“In fact, you know what?” Gellert says. “I’ll Apparate back there right now and let them know in person that we found something, and not just write it down for them in a linked journal.”

“You do that,” I say. “I’m going to set up the tent just outside and then go sift through the ship’s storage.”


	19. From Ashes

Before heading back to Ilvermorny, I track down the coatls and take Luna and Newt out to meet them.

“Thank you,” I tell them in Parseltongue, “We found what we were looking for. It’s an ancient flying machine. Surely not nearly as glorious as a coatl in flight, of course.”

I even give them a bonus as a token of appreciation. The greedy one is quite happy about the whole matter, although the angry one is brooding silently in the back. Newt is thrilled to get a chance to learn more about the coatls, while Luna is more than happy just to see them for herself.

As we’re heading back to camp, Newt says, “I should travel with a Parselmouth more. Are you available still?”

“I’m technically not a Parselmouth so much as a magical polyglot, I suppose you’d call it,” I say. “Haven’t found a language yet I couldn’t understand. I’ll be heading back to Ilvermorny soon, at any rate. Perhaps another time.”

“I don’t see why you pretend to be a child like that,” Newt says. “What can school teach you still?”

“Quite a lot, I’m afraid,” I say with a sigh.

“I’ve spent a year or two at three different schools now,” Luna says. “And none of that was more than second-year material.”

“It’s a safe place to practice magic,” I say. “We have a lot of work to do. My own magical skillset is pieced together from multiple different traditions, to the point where it’s a wonder it all works at all.”

“Harry… I’m still concerned about Grindelwald,” Newt says. “And he’s teaching at Ilvermorny now?”

I sigh. “I understand your concern. It’s not a situation I’m sure you ever had to consider before, I’m sure.”

Newt looks distantly off into the jungle. “People change. Sometimes, I suppose, they even manage to change for the better.”

Somehow, I get the impression that it’s not Gellert he’s thinking about there.

* * *

As we’re preparing to leave, once I’m alone with Gellert for a moment, he says, “So, Newt and Jacob?”

“What?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Well?”

“What about them?” I wonder.

“You know,” Gellert says. “Do you think they’re… together?”

I sigh and put my hand on my forehead. “You know Newt had a grandson in the future, don’t you?”

“He could be bi!” Gellert says. “Or, hey. Proximity to you might cause homosexuality!”

I roll my eyes. “I do _not_ have an ‘aura of gay’ that magically turns everyone around me gay.”

“Fine, fine,” Gellert says, absently waving a hand. “It’s still cute to think about, though.”

“Ugh. Come on. Let’s get things squared away. You’re ‘dying’ tomorrow. Gotta look good for that, right?”

Albus was uncomfortable with the idea of too public of a staged battle, for fear of bystanders being hurt or interfering with what was ‘supposed’ to be happening. But we concluded that we could handle it, and if not, to reset and try again. Gellert _actually_ dying would do well to faking his death, but be a little counterproductive, so we’ll need to try a run where he _doesn’t_ actually die in the process. And here he’s insisting on a situation that involves real risk. I suppose I can’t say anything about insanity and showmanship.

“I am not taking the Deathly Hallows from you, Gellert,” Albus says. “I will not be tempted with this again.”

Gellert snorts softly. “If you say so. You always take everything so seriously, Albus.”

“And you never take them seriously enough,” Albus replies.

“It’s okay,” Gellert says. “Now I have Sirius Black to keep me –”

“Can we avoid making that joke _again_?” I interrupt. “I swear if someone makes one more Sirius joke, I’m only going to call him Padfoot from now on.”

Albus gives me a look of sympathy.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Gellert says. “I’ll try to avoid doing _too_ much damage to Diagon Alley.”

“Make certain that you do not kill anyone,” Albus says. “I will most vehemently reconsider this should I discover that any serious, permanent damage has been done.”

“It won’t happen,” Gellert says. “Give me some credit. I have better control than that.”

“The unexpected can and does happen,” Albus says. “We cannot account for every variable.”

“Sure we can, sometimes we just need time travel to do it,” Gellert says.

“Let’s just do this before he changes his mind, Phoenix,” I say with a smirk.

We head to Diagon Alley one by one and disperse, disguised, and blend into the crowd. We’re here to provide backup and damage control, shielding and repairing, and healing anyone that gets wounded in the crossfire despite Gellert’s assurances, but mostly to assist in the showmanship. While those from this time frame might not be so sure of him, those of us whose souls are bound together have no such doubts.

“Here he comes,” I whisper aside to Luna as Gellert appears at the public Apparation point.

“People of London!” calls out Gellert in a magically amplified voice. “I, Gellert Grindelwald, have come for you! I am your hope and your salvation. I will break your chains and free you from fear! Fear of Muggles, fear of the world, fear of your magic, fear of yourselves! I am your doom and your destiny! Remember, what I do today is for the Greater Good!”

Gellert raises his wand and starts shooting off spells, setting fire to an awning, shattering a window, knocking over a stand of merchandise. People panic, shriek and scream. A few of them fumble for their wands and kick a few spells in Gellert’s direction, halting, sputtering out.

Even though I know this is mostly a staged fight, my heart is pounding. There are real people here, and this is real damage he’s doing. No one would accept that it was really Grindelwald who died if they didn’t see for themselves, and few wizards can match his prowess, never mind be capable of faking it. Here they can see this man fight, and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is really Grindelwald.

Albus arrives with a flourish, and puts up a shield to deflect a curse. “I will not allow you to harm these people!”

“Well, well, well,” Gellert says. “If isn’t Albus Dumbledore. I’m surprised you dared to show your face after all.”

“I’m surprised you would do something so brazen as to attack Diagon Alley itself,” Albus says. “What do you hope to gain from this?”

Gellert throws back his head and cackles. “What do I have to gain? I’m going to tear down the wards that keep this place hidden from Muggles. Soon all of London will know what you’re hiding here in the midst of the city. Soon you will no longer be able to hide safe behind your wards and your spells, and all wizards will have to learn to _live_ in the world they live in!”

“You must not do this!” Albus cries out, exchanging curses with him. “If the Muggles find out –”

“Then what?” Gellert says. “Even without my intervention, how much longer do you think you will be able to hide?” He smiles grimly. “You have no idea.”

Could people have imagined, at this point in time, just how far Muggles would go so fast? Even in the future, wizards were shocked to find out just what Muggles had accomplished on their own, without magic. No one is likely to believe us, even though we _know_ what is likely to happen. I suddenly feel sympathetic for prophets, for probably the first time in my existence. They might not be able to pinpoint exactly what will happen, when, to whom, but the broad strokes are as plain as day. Whatever minor changes we make here today won’t affect the invention of television, it won’t stop the development of computers and spaceships, and it won’t prevent the spread of cameras that will eventually make magic nearly impossible to hide any longer.

I suddenly have to wonder just how much of this fight is really staged. I have faith that Gellert doesn’t actually intend to hurt anyone, that much I can be sure of, but I have no doubt that he still wants to expose the wizarding world. And I have no idea how or whether that might even work at this stage in the game. Even if Muggles were to see magic, most of them wouldn’t be able to believe it, even if they _weren’t_ Obliviated shortly thereafter.

We wind up having to run the fight a few times anyway, more due to the interference from bystanders than anything else. Aurors have a tendency of showing up around five minutes after Gellert makes himself known, and the first time we reset is because an Auror accidentally blew Abraxas up. Needless to say, Brax is very much unhappy about this, and on the next run, he avoids the inadvertent explosion and stuns the offending Auror.

And the Aurors are at least professionals and actively not trying to cause collateral damage. Some bystanders, desperate and just skilled enough to be dangerous, wind up causing more harm than Gellert is. The second reset is after a bystander inadvertently kills several small children with a misfired curse. We definitely have our work cut out for us trying to minimize damage here.

The third time, someone actually turns on me, believing me to be one of Grindelwald’s supporters, to which I suppose she wasn’t exactly _wrong_. The witch sends a spray of acid into my face, resulting in a quick and painful death. Actually, at this point, much as I hate dying from acid and all, I find random stupid deaths to be almost comforting. Like I died from something stupid, all is right in the universe.

Then, with a slash of Gellert’s wand, the sky ripples. It’s not immediately clear just what happened in the flurry of spells that follows it up. Albus blasts Gellert into a pile of rubble, where he can be momentarily out of sight. As scripted ahead of time, Gellert take the opportunity to conceal what he’s doing with a cloud of smoke. Since we figured the Aurors would immediate put up Anti-Apparation Wards, we set up a Portkey to bypass them.

“He’s gone!” calls out one of the Aurors. “Something broke through the Anti-Apparation Wards. He must have had a Portkey!”

Well, that didn’t work out quite like we’d planned.

“We’ll pursue,” Albus says, gesturing to me and my friends. “Come assist me, if you would. I believe I know where he would have went.” He looks to the Aurors. “Best keep some people here to protect the people in case he comes back.”

Fortunately, the Aurors accept this, and we go off to our pre-arranged location to meet up with Gellert.

“How’d it go?” Gellert asks. “Did they buy it?”

I shake my head. “They detected the Portkey.”

“Damn,” Gellert says, then turns to Albus. “Welp, guess it’s time to murder me and try again.” He tips an imaginary cap to Albus.

“I know that it will not be permanent for you, but…” Albus says, raising his wand and hesitating.

“Aw, you still care about me?” Gellert says, giving him what appears to be an actually genuine smile. He goes over and gives Albus a kiss, then raises a hand to me.

As Albus is standing there blinking in surprise, I lift my own wand to hurl curses at Gellert.

“Hah!” Gellert says, laughing madly. “Yes, make it look good!” He flicks his wand, sending a cutting spell at me that almost takes off my left arm.

“Hey, I need that arm!” I say. “Well, at least just long enough to kill you with.”

“Oh, boo hoo, you can still murder me with your offhand.”

“Have I mentioned lately that you are both insane?” Rispy comments.

“I do not believe that you say it enough,” Abraxas says. “Albus, do you intend to finish him off, or merely stand there? I will do this if I must, seeing as Harry insists upon toying around.”

“I’m not toying about,” I say. “I’m just inflicting bodily harm on my boyfriend.”

“This is more than I needed to know about your love life,” Abraxas comments dryly. “Also, this is foolish.” He whips his wand at Gellert and sends a powerful curse flying.

* * *

“Right, okay, the Portkey is a bust,” Gellert says once we wake up earlier in the day.

“Do you have a Plan B?” I ask.

“Of course,” Gellert assures me. “Alright, how about, once I deploy the fake death from concealment, I age myself down and Albus can rescue a baby?”

“I _was_ intending to sufficiently damage the fake death so that it would not be readily recognizable as fake,” Albus says. “Why would you design an object which creates a fake death that is so obviously fake?”

Gellert had demonstrated the effect of these strange eggs that, when broken against someone, would create a duplicate of their body. But the duplicate would be naked, stiff as a board, with their face permanently affixed in a wild, toothy grin.

“Oh, I didn’t design them,” Gellert says. “I bought them from a joke shop in the future.”

“A joke shop,” Albus says flatly.

“I was in a hurry,” Gellert says.

Albus puts his face in his palm. “I believe I can, of course, direct my curses sufficiently to avoid harming a baby, although it would help if you were to dress your double in your clothing first. The expression on its face is no different than your typical ones, at any rate. I can then collect your belongings and then return them to you later.”

“What kind of wizard would I be if I didn’t know a spell to instantly dress or undress myself?” Gellert says with a wild, toothy grin.

“Yes,” Albus says. “That expression.”

“At first I thought it just copied the expression he was making when he broke the egg,” I comment. “But then I discovered they do that for everyone.”

We head back to Diagon Alley and set up the whole spiel again, but it still takes us a couple more tries to get it right. The first time, despite Albus’ best efforts, Gellert gets killed anyway by a collapsing building after shifting into a baby. The second time, interference from a bystander causes too many problems again and accidentally kills Hermione. The third time, at least, the plan goes off without a hitch. The fake death is deployed and clothed, and Albus retrieves the baby from the wreckage. No one was inadvertently killed in the crossfire this time, and while there was a good deal of property damage, it’s nothing that can’t be repaired, beyond some destroyed merchandise.

That done, with the Aurors convinced of Grindelwald’s death, we disperse one by one and return to our temporary safehouse in the middle of an anonymous forest somewhere in France. Albus puts Gellert down, who promptly ages himself up to adulthood again. And puts on some clothes with a wave of his hand and a muttered incantation.

“It is done,” Albus says, handing over Gellert’s possessions. “Your wand and bag, Gellert.”

“Much obliged, Albus,” Gellert says, pocketing them.

“So, you think they bought it this time?” I ask.

“One can hope,” Albus says. “You were able to prevent any casualties?”

I nod. “Nobody was seriously hurt. A few cuts and bruises. Nothing major.”

“So, Gellert Grindelwald is dead,” Gellert says. “I can happily go back to being Phoenix Lupin. Or Percival Graves, as the case may be. In fact, let me get that set up again right now, so that the next time someone looks at me, they’re not seeing Grindelwald.”

Gellert pull his wand back out and conjures a mirror, and gets to work on restoring his transfigured appearance.

“I do hope you intend to hold to what you’ve promised, ‘Phoenix’,” Albus says quietly.

“Even if I _were_ inclined to fuck around like that again, Harry would kick my ass if I tried,” Gellert says.

“You overestimate my magical ability,” I point out.

“You can’t beat me at spells, and I can’t beat you at lightsabers,” Gellert says. “And you’re good at blocking spells.”

“It would wind up being pretty even, if you put it that way, then,” I say. “But I’m not going to seriously fight you no matter what stupid shit you do, you know.”

“Regardless, I honestly have better things to do with my time,” Gellert says.

It’s a little disorienting watching him shape his own flesh while casually chatting with us. His hair turns dark again, and he holds his face very still just long enough to put on Percival Graves’ features.

“Carrying on with your new life, then?” Albus asks.

“For as long as I’m in this world, yeah,” Gellert says. “I have an adopted son and a class to teach.” He finishes up and dismisses the mirror, puts his wand away. “There, how do I look?”

“Not nearly as handsome as you do with your normal face,” I say with a grin.

* * *

It’s not until we’re back at Ilvermorny that I find out what he really did, and by that point it’s far too late to stop it even if I wanted to. Rumors are rampant around the school about Grindelwald’s defeat, but one thing that sticks out is the damage done to the wards on Diagon Alley. Muggles have been casually wandering into the Leaky Cauldron to get drinks, some of them absently commenting that they’d never noticed the place before. Wizards are alarmed, especially as other breaches of security come to light. A Muggle went to an apothecary in one of the connecting alleys and purchased potions, and only afterward did the proprietor realize the woman was a Muggle and not a witch.

The one bizarre anomaly about it is that the Ministry of Magic is having a difficult time uncovering just how many Muggles have been meandering into Wizarding London, due to the fact that none of them have been acting at all surprised at what they see inside. They speculate that a wide-area calming ward must be the cause, but they’ve been unable to pinpoint it and decided to leave it alone until they closed up the holes in security. But it seems like for every hole they cover, two more open up, and Muggles never do stop coming into the Leaky Cauldron. It seems like Gellert is getting his wish after all.

“Do you think they’ll be able to contain the place again?” I ask Maggie, the fifth year gossip, at lunch.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll manage, eventually,” Maggie says with a shrug. “But I hear Grindelwald secretly had supporters in the Ministry of Magic who are sabotaging the efforts.”

“Nonsense,” says Frank, a fourth year. “It was a Death Curse, I tell you. I read all about them. Sometimes wizards make it so their own death fuels a curse that can’t be dispelled. Nobody’s going to be able to keep No-Majs out of Wizarding London anymore.”

“How will that affect things?” I wonder. “I’ve been there, it’s too big to just pack up and move everything. And even if they managed it, if this _is_ really a curse or spell of some sort, what’s to say they won’t just bring it with them?”

“Good point,” Frank says. “Maybe it’s even infectious. Maybe everyone that’s been to Wizarding London is now carrying around a piece of a curse that will unravel the Statute of Secrecy one piece at a time.”

“That would be a disaster!” Abraxas exclaims.

When I see Gellert again at Mana Weaving class that afternoon, and take a look at his face, even more smug than usual, I immediately know that it’s no coincidence. He definitely did something there. I’m not entirely sure what, but I’m not actually surprised at all. Why didn’t he tell me what he had planned?

Honestly, I’m thrilled about it, although I put on a nice mask to pretend I’m not, of course. I don’t really need anyone to think I’m actually a Grindelwald supporter, although they might not think much of it from a twelve-year-old even if they were to suspect I had leanings in that direction. After all, how many young Slytherins at Hogwarts were blatantly junior Death Eaters in all but name? I was in Slytherin. I’d know. And the political situation was more complex than most eleven-year-olds would have considered.

I’d imagine Albus is having an apoplexy over the whole thing, though. I almost wish that I’d given him one of our linked journals just so that I can see him throwing a fit at Gellert over it.

Meanwhile, down in Honduras, work on the Atlantean ship proceeds apace. Over the next several months, I spend time translating and advising through my journal. They’d found scraps of documentation of various forms, and we’d identified the name of the ship as _Lar’naith_ , which I translated as _Thornblade_. While the material found in its storage and databanks isn’t a clear, concise user’s manual as one might have hoped for, it turns out to be far, far more interesting.

The Atlanteans did not call themselves Atlanteans, of course. That name is a corruption of language passed on across millennia, and I’m not quite sure how the L wound up on the wrong side of the T. Their own name for Atlantis was closer to something like El’tandis, and I translate it as Valley of the Stars.

It didn’t take me long to notice the close relationship between this language and that of the elves of my original homeworld. Even notwithstanding my apparent gift for languages, it’s no wonder that this tongue seemed very, very familiar. These Atlanteans, El’dari in their own language, were _elves_. Clearly not of direct descent of Lezaria’s elves, nor house-elves, since neither I nor Rispy can activate their artifacts, but elves nonetheless.

“The Children of the Stars,” Luna says quietly. “They must have wandered far to get here.”

“You don’t think they originated here?” I wonder.

Luna shakes her head. “I don’t think so. What is this place they mentioned?” She points to the translation I’d made. “Til’raine. They talk about it almost like a legend.”

“I suppose we shouldn’t dismiss it as a creation myth, yeah,” I say. “Glory of the Sun, long-lost and far away, but to a people who had access to spaceflight, far away probably doesn’t mean a place on the same world.”

“And what are the remnants of Vel’kira they mentioned?” Luna asks.

“I’m not sure,” I muse. “Vel’kira means something like Plains of the Void, or maybe Plane of Void.”

“And there were two remnants of this Plane of Void on Earth,” Luna says. “And what’s this word?”

I chuckle. “For all that I attempted to translate this, a few points were a bit difficult. That’s… _ven’an_. A place of connection. The center. The heart.”

“The Nexus?” Luna suggests.

My eyes widen as I stare down at the parchment. “Yeah… Suzy did mention there are two Nexi on Earth. These two remnants could be referring to those. They could very well be one and the same.”

“Did they find maps?” Luna asks.

“None that made any sense to me,” I say. “I’m sure their notation was very clear and lucid to _them_. But one thing was clear, though. This Vel’kira left many, many remnants behind on different worlds. There were dozens on their list, maybe over a hundred, maybe even hundreds, I haven’t finished going through it yet. It was a little intimidating. But if you’re right, if even _some_ of these remnants contained Nexi, we may well be able to find one that isn’t being used. I’d imagine that many of the ones on this list have been abandoned or forgotten about by this point.”

“I would not grow too excited about it pre-emptively,” Abraxas says. “They have yet to be able to get the _Thornblade_ off of the ground. And more importantly, we still have the werewolf to deal with.”

I sigh. “Yeah, I know. Believe me, I have not forgotten. I was thinking, though, that we can use the _Thornblade_ to fly to the moon, if we can get it in good working order again.”

“I was under the impression that you were to fly to the moon in a metaphorical rather than literal sense,” Abraxas says.

“Who knows what the fuck cryptic wise people mean when they give advice?” I mutter. “Spaceships. This is a problem I can handle. Not this weird meditation bullshit. I’m dying to get back there and get my hands on that ship.”

“So go,” Abraxas says. “Why are you still loitering in classes you do not need when you wish to work on this vessel instead?”

“I _do_ need them, though,” I say.

Abraxas rolls his eyes. “This is a waste of time and you know it. You can go to classes all you like, if that is what you choose to do, but do not whinge to me that you wish you were doing something else.”

“Fine, I see your point,” I grunt. “You don’t find it a waste of time for _you_ to attend classes, though? You didn’t hesitate to come along. You didn’t have to come to Ilvermorny with us.”

“Indeed,” Abraxas says. “I shall admit that in some ways it is… refreshing. I had been out of school for so long that it no longer seemed tedious, and matters in each of the three schools were handled quite differently.”

“I’m glad you brought me, at least,” Luna says. “And I appreciate the chance to finish school. Whichever school it winds up being. Thank you.”

I smile at her. “I feel like learning is never really finished, though. But school is… a start.”

Abraxas leans over and taps his finger against my translation notes. “This ancient Atlantean tongue. Why is it peppered full of apostrophes?”

“Those are glottal stops,” I tell him.

“Glottal stops?” Abraxas asks.

“You know, like that sound some British accents replace their T’s with,” I say.

“Ah,” Abraxas says. “That sound. And here for a moment I had suspected you had merely sprinkled them in for the sole purpose of looking exotic.”

I roll my eyes. “Believe me, I have more linguistic self-respect than that.”

“As you say,” Abraxas says. “But I cannot _hear_ one of these glottal stops when you say these words aloud.”

“I’m probably just mispronouncing them half the time,” I say.

“Uh-huh,” Abraxas says.

“It’s not like I have actual ancient native speakers here for me to converse with,” I say. “All I’ve got is text and guesses and memories of related languages.”

“But you can understand it,” Abraxas says.

“Well, yes,” I say. “Pretty easily, actually. But what I mean is, I know Latin. I also know Italian, Spanish, French, and Portuguese. We’re many centuries away from native Latin speakers, though. I’m sure the way we cast spells would sound atrocious to them, if they could hear us now. This language here is like the Latin to the other elven tongues I know.”

“If you claim them to be glottal stops, then I shall annoy you into properly pronouncing them as glottal stops, then,” Abraxas says. “Like this word, _ven’an_. You pronounced it _venan_. Is there a linguistic difference between these two terms?”

“Uh… yeah,” I say, scowling. “ _Venan_ , without the glottal stop, is a term of endearment. I think I’d best make sure I pronounce the glottal stop in that, then.”


	20. Horizontal Flight

Come winter holidays, I take the opportunity to get my hands on the ship again. Unfortunately, my own arrogance got the better of me. I’d thought that I would have been able to get it off the ground readily enough if I had a week or two to work on it. As it turns out, my experience with the wrong kinds of ships is just dangerous enough to undo a lot of the work they’d been doing.

“Well, shit,” Sirius says, looking over the shattered crystal in the engine room. “Tom’s gonna go spare when he sees this.”

“Oops,” I mumble.

“Maybe you should get back to school before you ‘oops’ again,” Sirius says with a smirk. “Or more importantly, to duck Tom’s wrath.”

“Why am I being wrathful today?” asks a young voice, walking into the engine room.

“Uh… hi, Tom,” I say.

He’s looking like a typical five year old boy at the moment, and I think he must have just slowed down his accelerated aging at around the point a normal boy would have been expected to be able to walk around and carry on a coherent conversation. I don’t really blame him, though. I wouldn’t have wanted to spend more time as an infant than necessary, if I could help it.

Tom scowls when he approaches and sees the damage. “How did you manage this? _How_? You were back here for _five minutes_!”

“I, er, just thought I might be able to get it off the ground by remodulating the flow of the –”

“We will need to replace this crystal,” Tom says, clearly not interested in my excuses. “And we do not have the parts to do so here any longer. Fortunately, I believe the ones we found in that cave in the Himalayas should do the job, if necessary, but it would have been best for it not to be broken in the first place.”

“I’m sure I can fix it again,” I say.

“Yes, by resetting,” Tom says pointedly.

I grumble, “I don’t think that’s really necessary.”

“Fortunately for you, we don’t need your permission to force a reset,” Tom says, and the world winks out.

* * *

I wake in my room in the tent, and groan. I hadn’t even seen him cast a spell there before we reset. It irks me that Tom has more control over it than I do, but I’d imagine that’s probably because of his greater skill at Soul Magic.

I leave the tent and go back to the engine room and find him already there again. “You could have just asked, you know.”

“I did,” Tom retorts. “You said it wasn’t necessary.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” I say.

“I construed that as a refusal,” Tom says.

“It was a… very soft refusal,” I say.

Tom snorts softly. “It’s more convenient this way. There is no reason why we cannot nor should not change things if something goes wrong for whatever reason.”

“I’m not going to argue about this again,” I say. “Do what you like.”

“For someone who has the innate power of Time Magic, you certainly seem hesitant to use it,” Tom says.

“I’m not going to argue this,” I repeat.

Tom waves a hand at the door and mutters a few words, locking and warding it, before aging himself up to adulthood. “Lexen.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Don’t just stand there and quietly take it when I’m mocking you,” Tom says.

“Oh come _on_ ,” I say. “Are you just _trying_ to start an argument here today? Look. I honestly didn’t think it was necessary, but I’m _not_ going to argue about it if you or any of the others wants to play with time travel like it’s a fucking toy. It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t sound so fine, if you say it like that,” Tom says. “And you didn’t hesitate to play with it when it was _Gellert_ who benefited from resetting repeatedly in order to get an optimal outcome.”

I put my face in my palm. “Is that what this is about? What’s going on with you and Sirius?”

“That’s none of your business,” Tom snaps.

“It clearly is, if you’re acting like this,” I say. “Are things a bit strained with you still trying to pretend to be a child for the sake of your mother and sneaking around behind her back?”

Tom scowls and looks away silently.

“No amount of resetting is going to fix that,” I say.

“Sirius wants to hold off until we leave this timeline,” Tom says quietly.

“Don’t tell me that he, of all people, doesn’t like sneaking off for a snog,” I say.

“It doesn’t make much difference to _me_ , but I don’t think he likes seeing me as a child,” Tom says.

“That’s only natural,” I say. “Presumably he’s not a pedophile. But we all know you’re not really a child, and presumably you don’t look like a child when you’re alone with him.”

“It makes things no less strained,” Tom mutters.

“We have all the time in the universe,” I say. “We can afford to be patient.”

“Do we really?” Tom asks. “What happens after we trigger the Time-Change?”

“Tom, relax,” I say. “We’ll be fine. We’re going to take every precaution we can, and you and Phoenix were the ones to assure me that the Soul Nexus would hold.”

Tom frowns. “I’m just worried. For the sake of my own continued existence.”

“Well, let’s work under the assumption that we will all continue to exist, because if for some reason we don’t, we won’t really be in a position to worry about it any longer. I certainly agree with you on that point, and that if I really thought the Time-Change was likely to destroy us, I would be seriously reconsidering this and taking a step back to try something else or just let someone else deal with the damned werewolf demon god.”

“I do not believe you are capable of simply letting someone else deal with a problem,” Tom says with a smirk.

“Now, if you want my opinion –”

“I didn’t really ask, but you’re going to give it anyway,” Tom mutters.

“– you should spent time with your mother,” I say. “We have all of eternity with Sirius. You may not get another chance to be around Merope for long.”

“Not you, too,” Tom groans.

“What, are you afraid that in a few years, Sirius will suddenly no longer be interested in you?” I wonder.

“I am not so insecure,” Tom insists.

“Then don’t take it out on me,” I say.

Tom sighs, leans back against the bulkhead and looks off at nothing in particular. “I have to admit, my mother is… not what I’d expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“In my former life, I’d alternately idealized and demonized her,” Tom says. “I never knew her, didn’t know anything about her, so my imagination filled in a dozen different explanations for why I was delivered to that horrible orphanage, who she was, what my father was like. I was, admittedly, far more disappointed in my Muggle father. My mother, though, for all her faults, is surprisingly clever. I suspect that she has already realized that there is something odd about me beyond the flimsy explanation of Time Magic that we gave her.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I wonder.

Tom is quiet for a moment before replying, “I don’t know. I suppose it was too much to ask to keep everything quiet forever.”

“We didn’t really have forever, not in this time,” I say. “Maybe another time we will have forever.”

“Maybe,” Tom allows.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” I ask.

“How do I explain that I have memories of the future?” Tom asks.

“Well, you either do it my way, which would involve going off on a long, rambling story over the next several months,” I say. “Or you do it Gellert’s way, and spout it off in the most blunt and tactless manner possible. Or hey, there’s also Luna’s way, which is to say something weird out of the blue.”

“I’m not certain that I wish to even try to explain it to her,” Tom says. “I wanted her to see me as nothing more than a gifted child.”

“You can’t hide forever,” I say. “You can’t spend your entire existence being an endless web of lies.”

“You’re a fine one to talk about that,” Tom says.

“I’m a hypocrite,” I say. “But I realize that sometimes we can’t have it all ways.”

There’s a muffled knock on the engine room door. Tom quickly turns himself back into a child and dispels his wards. Gellert comes inside and closes the door behind him, and looks between the two of us with a smirk.

“Were you two snogging in here?”

“No,” Tom and I say in unison.

“Uh-huh,” Gellert says.

Tom rolls his eyes and makes a shooing gesture. “Both of you, give me some space. I have work to do.”

“Are you going to talk to your mum?” I ask.

“Are you going to nag me until I do?” Tom retorts.

“Maybe,” I say.

“Ugh,” Tom grunts. “I’ll think about it.”

“Come on, Phoenix,” I say. “Let’s give Tom some space and explain to the others why it was totally necessary to reset.”

Not that I can really argue that decision, as sudden as it was. I guess, no matter how many discussions we have about it, I’m probably never going to get used to resetting so casually, and using that as an excuse to wipe away any mistake that might be made. But why shouldn’t I? It’s a question that haunts me far more frequently than it ought to. Maybe they’re right and I should just relax and enjoy what I have. However, at the moment, there is the point that we currently have a very real and serious threat we need to deal with, and to use every advantage we have at our disposal to do it.

A lot of work still needs to be done on the ship to make it spaceworthy, but most of that time is having to be spend researching and learning about how it works before anyone even thinks about touching the systems. We’ve been trying to be careful, for the most part. Fortunately, Hermione’s been practicing with the El’dari technology and has been having more success in connecting to and manipulating it like Jacob has been.

It’s been a bit trying, though, as most of my friends weren’t familiar with technology at all, never mind technology this advanced. It’s been difficult even for me, and I’d like to think of myself as something of an expert in technology, just because it’s _unfamiliar_ technology. I could put a protocol droid together with spit and duct tape, but this? If it weren’t for the lack of appropriate resources and infrastructure, I’d be suggesting that just building a brand new ship from scratch would be simpler. But it wouldn’t really. We’d have to build tools to build tools and effectively re-invent the wheel. All we really need to do here is fix it.

At least, in the meantime, we’ve been making progress on mana weaving. I’ve finally realized why this was the primary magic system used by the Elkandu. It’s hard to learn, but _versatile_. You’re not beholden to words or gestures to wands. You can directly weave magic together in any way you wish. It’s just, to get to that point of precision and versatility, it takes quite a bit more practice and training. It’s no wonder that most Elkandu apparently never learned more than a few simple spells that they could be taught to repeat by rote. How many Elkandu, I wonder, truly mastered this form of magic? Was Suzy just being completely immodest when she claimed to be the greatest among them, or was there some veracity in that?

* * *

By the time summer comes around again, I can levitate myself unaided for short periods of time, and the _Thornblade_ has finally gotten off the ground as well.

“Whee!” I exclaim, lifting into the air from weaves of mana which quickly unravel and deposit me firmly on my butt. “Ow.”

“You need to focus more,” Luna says, casually floating in the air. Ever since she managed to keep herself in the air indefinitely, she hasn’t come _down_ , much to the consternation of some of our teachers. You’d think they’d be used to weirdness like that in a magic school.

“You’re heading off to summer vacation now, Miss Lovegood,” Professor O’Rourke tells her. “You’re going to have to stop hovering and turn in your wand.”

“Aw, do I have to?” Luna pouts.

“You know the rules,” O’Rourke says gently.

“Oh, alright,” Luna says, drifting to the ground and pulling out her wand to hand over.

At this point, the restriction amuses me, given the classes on Mana Weaving. Most of us can’t really do anything major with it yet, but the professors either don’t realize that it really doesn’t rely on having a wand on you, or aren’t too concerned about it. Given the slow rate of mastery, lack of concern would honestly not surprise me, though.

We only return to the apartment briefly to meet up with the others, who Apparate us to a new headquarters. A secluded valley rimmed by rugged mountains, a squat shack sitting off to one side, and the ancient vessel nestled neatly in the center.

“How did you get it here without any noticing?” I wonder.

“Magic,” Sirius says, waggling his fingers.

“Well, yes, obviously,” I say. “But if it were that easy, nobody would ever need to be careful with brooms and they wouldn’t have had to outlaw flying carpets.”

“We used mana weaves, actually,” Remus says. “Although we spent most of the trip over the ocean, however.”

“Which was fairly harrowing in and of itself,” Jacob adds. “I kept worrying that we would drop out of the air like a stone and sink to the bottom of the sea, never to be seen again. We had to go pretty slow, too.”

Not seeing Tom amongst the group, I look around for him, going over to poke my head into the ship and the shack. He’s in the engine room, adult-aged, sitting on the floor with his back up against a wall, not working on anything.

“Tom?” I ask quietly.

He doesn’t look up at me. “Lexen.”

“You always call me Lexen,” I say. “Why is that?”

Tom shrugs. “It’s your name. It’s what you usually go by in other universes.”

“And here I was thinking I had too many names and wasn’t sure which one was mine,” I say with a smirk.

“You still have too many names,” Tom says.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

Tom snorts softly. “For your information, I am sitting in here, meditating and considering our next move.”

“You mean you’re stumped,” I say.

“I am not ‘stumped’,” Tom says. “We have achieved great success in getting this vessel in the air, even if its other systems are still non-operational. The ancient Atlantean – or elven, as you say – design is superb.”

“El’dari,” I say. “They called themselves the El’dari.”

“As you say,” Tom says.

“I’m surprised to see you looking like an adult again, though,” I say. “I didn’t detect any wards on the door, either. Did you talk to your mother?”

Tom nods tersely. “I did. I spoke to my mother at some point in the last six months, yes. And while you’ve been at school, I’ve been dealing with awkward familial relations.”

“That bad?” I raise an eyebrow.

“My mother is uncertain what to think,” Tom says. “Beyond, apparently, the fact that I look a lot like my Muggle father and she seems to be attracted to me.”

“Oh,” I say, eyes widening. “Oh gods.”

“Exactly.”

“I am _so_ sorry,” I say.

Tom snorts softly. “It’s hardly your fault that the pureblood families of Britain frequently practice incest, nor that my mother is somewhat deranged due to excessive inbreeding.”

I put my face in my palm. “Where is she now?”

“In the shack,” Tom says. “We put her to work on analyzing the life support systems. For all that she’s rubbish at magic, she’s quite skilled at potions. I suppose she would have to be, if she kept my father dosed with love potion.”

“Is that what she did?” I ask.

Tom nods. “Believe me, when I found out, it explained quite a lot. I never would have thought myself to sympathize with my father before. And to think, she could have used her potion-making skill to make herself more attractive, or _something,_ instead, to try to snare the man of her dreams without winding up losing him when he realized he was effectively being mind-controlled for it.”

“And the alternative was, what, marrying her own brother or something?” I ask.

“Exactly,” Tom says with a sigh. “It’s not like I blame her, mind you, beyond being creepy toward me. My uncle was definitely no looker. And I don’t just say that because I’m not into incest. Is, I suppose I should say. I haven’t murdered him in this timeline yet. I might get around to it if I can be bothered, but it really doesn’t seem important at this point, even if he and my grandfather _were_ abusive toward my mother.”

“You? Saying murder _doesn’t seem important_?” I say with feigned incredulity. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tom looks up at me, then throws back his head and laughs heartily. “You may have a point there.”

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go murder your uncle. It’ll cheer you up.”

“This is rich,” Tom says, climbing to his feet. “ _You_ trying to convince _me_ to go out and murder people.”

“I don’t think ‘trying’ is the operative word here,” I say. “Or were you going to argue about how killing is wrong, nobody deserves to die, blah blah something or other?”

Tom grabs me by the shoulders, presses me up against the bulkhead, and kisses me hard.

We’re interrupted by the sound of clapping, and out of the corner of my eye I spot Gellert standing in the open doorway, a broad grin on his face. Tom raises one hand to flip him the bird and continues kissing me.

After a minute, Tom breaks off and looks over at Gellert. “Were you waiting in line to be snogged, too, or have you just been eavesdropping so you could watch?”

“What, were you offering?” Gellert says, waggling his eyebrows.

Tom rolls his eyes. “We’re going to Britain. Are you coming?”

“Absolutely,” Gellert says with a toothy grin.

“I can’t Side-Along Apparate with both of you,” Tom says. “I’ll send you the target mentally.”

A light touch of Mind Magic offers up an image of a location, and I nod. I’m pretty sure I was there before, in another life, but it’s good to have the refresher to know exactly where we’re going. Without further ado, the three of us Apparate to a town called Little Hangleton. We don’t bother stepping outside to tell anyone where we’re going, or even that we’re going. Nobody has to wonder whether they ought to be trying to dissuade us, today.

“So, where are we going?” Gellert asks. “Is it that big house on the hill?”

“No,” Tom says flatly, walking off. “It’s the shitty little shack no self-respecting pureblood family should have been caught dead in.”

“Wow, damn,” Gellert says. “To think your mum marrying a Muggle was moving _up_ in the world.”

“Believe me, the irony is not lost on me,” Tom says.

“So, you were planning to just Fiendfyre the place?” Gellert asks. “That’d be the most expedient.”

“Expedient, sure,” I say. “But then how can you look someone in the eye and tell them you hate them and they’re going to die?”

“I’ll Fiendfyre it afterward to destroy the evidence,” Tom says. “But Lexen is right. And I appreciate the murder advice. Truly.”

“Yep, we’re like shoulder angels,” Gellert says. “Except we’re not angels, we’re a demon and a devil.”

“Which of us is which?” I ask.

“You’re the devil,” Gellert says.

By this point, Tom is well and truly ignoring us. He just gestures at us to keep watch while he goes inside the shitty shack.

“What’s the difference, anyway?” I wonder.

“Demons are Chaotic Evil,” Gellert explains. “Devils are Lawful Evil.”

“Lawful Evil?” I repeat. “Surely you jest. I’m about the furthest thing from lawful, and you know it.”

“Not even when you’re trying to take over the galaxy?” Gellert says.

“That was once!” I say. “That I know of. Besides, I’m not really _that_ evil. Just semi, sort of, sometimes evil.”

Horrible screams echo from out of the old shack.

“So, you’re Chaotic Neutral, then,” Gellert says with a smirk.

“Sure, let’s go with that,” I say. “Wait, you’re not talking about that game you guys were playing again, are you?”

“That game would be Dungeons and Dragons,” Gellert says. “Give or take an ‘Advanced’. And we’ve apparently determined that you’re Tom’s shoulder Slaad.”

“The fuck is a Slaad?” I wonder.

Gellert sifts around in his bag and pulls out a heavy of binder labeled with “Advanced Dungeons & Dragons” and “Monstrous Compendium”, and hands it over to me.

“It’s go to be somewhere in there,” Gellert says. “Who knows where? It’s not alphabetized.”

“You brought gaming materials from the future,” I say flatly. “Don’t tell me you’ve tried to get people in this time to play with you?”

“Maybe…” Gellert says, shifty-eyed.

Tom steps outside again, thankfully sparing me the task of sifting through a large compendium of monsters. “What are you two doing?”

“Discussing the fantastic beasts of other planes,” Gellert says cheerfully.

Tom looks at the huge binder in my arms, then puts his face in his palm. “You’re lucky I like you fools.” He lifts his wand. “Stand back.”

We take a few steps away from the building, and Tom utters a few infernal syllables that soon have the shack engulfed in fiery serpents. I take a moment to appreciate the warmth and glow of the evil, demonic fire, and the fact that the people inside keep screaming for several more moments. I take heart in the fact that they almost certainly deserved it.

Once the building has been completely destroyed, Tom dismisses the Fiendfyre and turns back to us. “Let’s go. There’s nothing more here for me.”

“What about your Muggle family?” I ask.

Tom shakes his head. “I don’t know. Not today. Let’s go.”

Without another word, he Apparates away, and Gellert and I follow. We return right back to the engine room where we’d just left. When we step outside again, I see Albus and Newt have arrived, along with those two sisters, Tina and Queenie. This little valley is practically crowded at this point.

“So, this is what it looks like when it’s not half-buried,” Newt says, looking over the ship appraisingly.

“Marvelous,” Albus says. “How ancient must this skyship be, if it dates back to the time of Atlantis? That was over ten thousand years ago.”

“It wasn’t exactly in good condition when we found it,” Jacob says.

“What’s that you have there?” Newt asks, coming over to look at the binder in my hands. “Monstrous Compendium? Sounds fascinating.”

“Oh, yes,” Gellert says. “It contains detailed information on a number of creatures, many of which don’t exist on this plane. But it could prove very useful if one were to ever visit Oerth, Toril, Krynn, Athas, or the Outer Planes.” He waves a hand. “You can have that copy, if you like. I have an extra.”

I gratefully hand over the binder to Newt, and comment, “Why do you have two of these things?”

“Just in case,” Gellert says. “I’ll make another copy later. If we should ever actually wind up in one of those places, I’ll be certain to make copies for all of us.”

“Right…” I say. “So, I take it we’re having a huge start-of-summer party in the shack that is probably really a mansion inside? Did anyone bring booze?”

“You better believe it,” Sirius says.

We all head inside. Sure enough, the building is more than big enough on the inside to hold all of us, although the décor is more conservative and subdued than ‘mansion’ would imply. Remus probably did the interior design. I would imagine before the end of the night, Abraxas might wind up fancying it up a bit. He tends to do that, despite people repeatedly telling him that everything does not require silver tassels.

“So,” I say, grabbing a firewhiskey. “We have two months to get as much work done as we can before going back to school.”

“Work?” Gellert says with a snort. “Is this all going to be about work?”

“Yes,” Hermione says firmly. “We have a lot to do, and only four more years left to do it in. Possibly closer to three. We wouldn’t want to cut it too close.”

“Hey, don’t think this hasn’t all been work and no play,” Sirius says. “But if Harry really thinks he needs this ship to fly him to the moon, then by the gods, we will fly him to do the moon.”

“Without those inertial dampeners working, though, we’ll be strawberry jam on toast before we could even get into space,” Jacob says. “And I still have no idea how they work. This ‘technology’ stuff is new to me, but I’m learning.”

“How has school been going?” Remus asks. “Have you been making progress on mana weaving?”

I nod. “Hopefully enough progress that I’ll be able to cast the spell I need to by the time the deadline comes up.”

“You don’t need to do this alone, Stormseeker,” Luna says quietly, looking up from her cup of fruit punch.

“But I’m the Time Mage here,” I say.

“We’re all tied together,” Luna says. “We’re all part of a greater whole, now.”

“Are you suggesting that we attempt a mana weaving _ritual_?” Remus wonders. “How would that even work?”

I rub my eyes. “Maybe, just maybe, if we pool together everything we know about magic, we might just be able to get this to work. Words, runes, rituals, mana weaving, the works.”

“These sorts of magic aren’t even supposed to work together at all,” Sirius says.

“Who says?” I say. “You’ve said half the things I do are impossible.”

“We’re only going to have one shot at this,” Remus says.

“Then it’s all the more important that we do not fail,” Tom puts in.


	21. Moonshadow

Albus doesn’t seem too sore over what Gellert did in London. He seems to have expected something like that. So Muggles keep obliviously wandering into Diagon Alley and getting drinks at the Leaky Cauldron, and the residents there have to adjust. They’re frustrated at first, until they realize that no matter how much magic the Muggles see in Diagon Alley, they don’t seem to bat an eye at it. They eventually come to the conclusion that this was probably more effective than just trying to hide it, and decide to leave well enough alone. It doesn’t mean they’re happy about it, though.

“How did you manage that, anyway?” I ask Gellert.

He just grins at me. “Not telling.”

“Bastard,” I chuckle.

It takes another two years to repair the ship enough to leave atmosphere, and by that point we’re all more than ready for a break. If I were the betting sort, I would have absolutely lost the bet that I would be unable to go six months without causing an incident, unless you count the introduction of Mana Weaving as an incident. We’ve all been too focused on what we’re doing, for the most part. Hermione insisting on inundating us with schedules and study plans notwithstanding.

I keep expecting everything to go horribly wrong. That’s what things tend to do, after all. But things are quiet, which only makes me all the more nervous. I remind myself that we came back in time before all the terrible things that happened in this century, and have prevented most of them simply by having Voldemort and Grindelwald come back with us. That doesn’t mean we’re out of the woods quite yet, though.

“Are we ready for this?” I say, looking over the ancient El’dari ship.

This is probably as good as it’s going to get. Nobody spared time to shine it up, but all systems are intact and functional except for the hyperdrive. I’m not sure how they did it. It’s times like this that remind me that my faith in my friends is not misplaced.

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Jacob says.

“And are you sure you guys want to come along with us?” I ask, looking over to the ones not bonded to me. Jacob, Newt, Albus, Merope, we’ve dragged them in this far, and given the importance of what we’re doing, I can’t even feel bad about it.

“If you don’t come back, we’re keeping the ship,” Jacob says. “Get that hyperdrive working and maybe we can check out these other worlds you lot keep talking about.”

“I thought you wanted to open a bakery,” I ask.

“That Great Depression you predicted is in full swing now,” Jacob says. “People can barely afford bread, never mind fancy baked goods. Besides, I have a freaking _spaceship_. And one I’ve gotten pretty good at operating by this point.”

“So we’re really doing this,” Hermione says. “We’re actually flying to the moon.”

“Absolutely,” I say. “Let’s make sure we’ve got everything packed, so we don’t have to fly back to Earth just because we forgot something stupid.”

“I’m sure we already have everything we could conceivably ever need in our bags and aboardship,” Tom comments dryly.

I head about to take a look around. In the meantime, they’d apparently decided that it was safe to magically expand the ship, and the living quarters and storage areas have become positively massive, and include ‘windows’ that even if I couldn’t see the mana weaves making them up, I’d known perfectly well I hadn’t actually seen from the outside of the ship. It’s probably just as well that the ship has been magicked up, seeing as if we couldn’t have expanded the thing, we’d definitely have been cutting the crew and passengers could considerably. This ship is pretty small, from the outside. It wasn’t designed for quite this many people. Actually, I’m not really sure why some of them are even along, but I’m not going to complain. If I were in their position, like hell would I miss this opportunity. I wish I’d been able to do this to the _Ebon Hawk_ back when I was recruiting a bunch of disenfranchised former Sith. That seems like a lifetime ago, now.

The cockpit at the front of the ship has been expanded a bit, as well, with a walkway around the edge with terminals displaying additional information. And someone has added a gratuitous big chair to the middle of it for some reason, almost a throne.

“I want to know whose idea it was to add a throne to the cockpit but not seatbelts,” Hermione asks.

“There’s inertial dampeners and artificial gravity,” Jacob says. “You won’t feel the movement of the ship. We took it on a test flight, and they work fine.”

“That’s reassuring, but what if it fails again?” Hermione asks.

“Then we’re strawberry jam on toast,” Jacob says. “And if we manage to avoid that, then we very carefully manage our acceleration like we did while flying around before we got the inertial dampeners working.”

“Everyone’s on board,” says Remus from the doorway. “And the mana weaves around the ship that’ll keep anyone from noticing us are active.” He grins at me and gestures. “Go ahead and take your captain’s chair. It’s all yours.”

“Alright, get everyone that’s not flying the ship into to the crew quarters,” I say. “They can watch from there.” I go over to take a seat in the very comfortable chair. “Begin departure preparations.”

Jacob and Hermione take their positions in the pilot’s and co-pilot’s seats. Tom, Remus, and Sirius go over to monitor the other terminals. And Gellert leans back against my chair. I don’t think I could dissuade him from being on the bridge if I even wanted to.

“Don’t just stand there, Phoenix, conjure yourself a chair if you’re going to be up here,” I say with a chuckle.

Gellert waves his wand and a chair next to mine forms out of thin air, which he casually flops into. “And I totally promise not to confuse everyone in earshot with entertainment references. For the moment.”

“Thank you,” Jacob says. “It might be a little distracting.”

The ship hums to life, and after a few minutes everyone is in position and we’re ready to take off. I give the order, and the ship lifts into the air. It could be smoother, certainly. It shudders a little as we ascend. It runs more like a battered old smuggler’s ship than a shiny, new corvette. I absently wonder if they found any hidden smuggling compartments while repairing and remodeling the ship. Doubtful.

“We’re now higher than we’ve ever gone,” Jacob says.

“Emerging from the atmosphere now,” Tom says.

“Seals are holding,” Remus says. “Life support is working.”

“We’re not suffocating,” Sirius says cheerfully. “Would you look at that!”

“We have attained orbit,” Jacob announces.

A glorious blue globe stretches out beneath us underneath the expanse of stars. After Albus had told me when I first arrived in this world that they hadn’t yet colonized other worlds, I hadn’t seriously hoped to see Earth from space. But discovering this ship changed everything, and it now seems like we could achieve anything. Even fly to the stars. What a simple thing that the Jedi and Sith took for granted.

“Let’s just give it a few orbits first,” I say. “Let us make sure everything’s holding and calculate the proper trajectory. And enjoy the view.”

The ship creaks ominously.

“Seals are… _mostly_ holding,” Remus says.

“I’ll check it,” Sirius says, brandishing his wand and heading out into the corridor.

“How long will it take to fly to the moon?” I ask.

“Twenty-three minutes,” Jacob says.

I grin. “To think, all that work to get into the sky in the first place, and the moon is just one small step away.”

The ship creaks more loudly this time.

“Provided we don’t all die horribly before we get there,” Gellert says lightly.

“Are we going to need to land and try again in a bit?” I ask.

“I would recommend it,” Remus says, not looking up from his readout panel. “We have a problem.”

I say, “Jacob, bring us back to the valley, if you can.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Jacob says.

“Wait!” Sirius exclaims, bursting back into the cockpit. “Maintain orbit. Don’t attempt reentry.”

“Resume orbit, Jacob,” I say, then turn to Sirius. “What’s wrong?”

“We should be good for space,” Sirius says. “There’s no leaks or anything. But attempting reentry would probably tear this bird apart.”

“Oh, lovely,” I say. “What are we going to do, then?”

“We should be able to handle the moon’s lighter atmosphere and gravity,” Tom says. “If we put down there, we may be able to shore things up enough to survive reentry into Earth’s atmosphere.”

“I’m starting to reconsider how awesome it would be to fly around the galaxy,” Jacob comments.

“It’s all the expansions we did,” Sirius says.

“I knew that would be a problem,” Tom groans.

Remus frowns, peering over the readouts. “Yes, they do seem to be causing some unintended strain. What can we do about it?”

“What we _should_ have done was to just take as few people as necessary to get this ship off the ground, do what we needed to do, and come back,” Tom says. “And should we wind up resetting, I will be certain to dismantle the expansions and do just that.”

“I’ll prefer to avoid dying horribly, if it’s all the same to you,” Jacob says.

“If it were up to me, you wouldn’t have been along at all,” I say. “Hermione should have been able to control it sufficiently by now, shouldn’t she?”

“Not nearly as well,” Hermione says. “And probably not well _enough_.” She frowns. “Jacob has had more practice and he still has a stronger connection with it.”

“I knew this was going to be risky,” Jacob says. “But you know what? It was worth it, just to see that.” He gestures out the viewscreen at the planet stretching below us.

I grin. “Jacob. Break orbit. Lay in a course for the moon.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Jacob says, grinning himself.

The blue planet falls away beneath us as the little ship turns away and sails off into space. As visible from Earth, the moon was a waxing gibbous, not yet full. But here, as it rapidly approaches in my vision at sublight speeds, it’s more beautiful than ever.

We set down in a relatively flat area on the far side of the moon, in the band of twilight, to lessen the chances of anyone spotting us up here with telescopes, as unlikely as that seemed. Tom wants to strip some of the magic from it, just to be sure, although if that includes the cloaking spells, we’re going to have a hell of a time ‘sneaking’ back down to Earth.

“There’s spacesuits in the storage room,” Remus says. “There were a few of them in the lockers that were intact enough to repair and duplicate, but obviously we haven’t been able to run a practical test of them. Be ready with Bubble-Head Charms, just in case.”

Jacob raises a hand. “I can’t cast a Bubble-Head Charm.”

“Just make a choking sound into the comm or clutch your throat with your hands and one of us will cast it on you,” Tom says lightly.

“Right, thanks,” Jacob says dubiously.

“I have a _very important_ question here,” I say. “How do we know magic will work properly on the moon?”

The others are quiet for a moment, exchanging glances.

“Remember Antarctica?” I add.

“Right…” Tom says, sobering. “Hopefully there’s enough of us here to create a stable magic field.”

“Otherwise, we’re in for one _hell_ of a wild magic zone,” Gellert says. “No time like the present to find out.” He pulls out his wand.

“Wait,” Tom says. “Let’s all get into the spacesuits first. Just in case you blow a hole in the side of the ship trying to turn my hair blue.”

“What if we blow a hole in our spacesuits?” Remus asks.

Tom doesn’t answer. We head out of the cockpit and while the others get into the storage room to start changing, I poke my head into the living quarters.

“This is amazing!” Hermione exclaims. “I never thought I’d actually be on the _moon_!”

“Fair warning, nobody cast any spells,” I say. “We’re almost certainly in a wild magic zone up here, and we need to find out how bad it is. We have enough equipment and magic items that it shouldn’t be a problem if we’re careful, though.”

Abraxas groans. “Antarctica was bad enough. You take me to the most wonderful places.”

“You were the one who wanted to come along,” I say with a smirk. “Alright, everyone get into the spacesuits. There’s very little atmosphere on the moon, so you won’t be able to breathe out there without a suit or a Bubble-Head Charm, and we can’t guarantee the Bubble-Head Charm is going to work properly.”

I herd everyone into the storage room to get that situated, and go to put on my own suit. I need not have worried about having enough suits. My friends apparently created way more than needed. Probably a wise precaution. Remus shows everyone how to work the comms, and with that… we head outside. Out past the airlock, four at a time, since that’s all that will fit in there. I call dibs on going out with the first group. Captain’s privilege. Gellert, Remus, and Luna come along with me.

Air cycles. The door slides open with a _shunk_. And we step outside to a barren world under stars. The gravity barely pulls at my feet.

“Now, remember, you can turn on the artificial gravity in your boots –” Remus is telling us through the comm.

“Whee!” Luna exclaims, bouncing off through the air.

“– or you can just do that,” Remus says. “Whichever.”

The second group comes out of the airlock in a moment. They make sure to turn on the gravity on their boots, at least.

“Say, can we use these boots to walk on the ceiling, down on Earth?” Sirius asks.

“Only if you remember to wear boxers under your robes,” Remus says with a smirk.

“Don’t we have perfectly good magic that can do the same thing?” Cassie asks.

After bouncing a few times, Luna says, “I want to find the rabbits of the moon.”

“I don’t think there are any rabbits on the moon, Luna,” Cassie says.

“So, Moony, is the moon doing anything weird to you, being a werewolf and all?” Gellert asks.

“Not particularly, no,” Remus says. “Although I am uncertain that I would wish to be here were I the sort of werewolf Harry described in that alternate universe where it was an infection.”

“Alright, who wants to very carefully see how magic works here?” I ask.

“Will it help if we believe magic works normally _really hard_?” Sirius asks.

“ _Lumos_ ,” Gellert says.

The entire area is suddenly blanketed in a light, as though a spotlight with a sixty foot radius has fixed itself on our general vicinity. I blink a few times. At least it’s not blindingly bright, and we can see a little better now.

“Well, shit,” Gellert says. “At least it did what I was trying to do.”

“ _Colovaria_ ,” Tom casts. His feet are yanked out from under him and he floats up into the air for a few seconds before drifting back down to the ground. No colors are changed.

“That’s not a good sign,” Remus says.

“ _Colovaria_ ,” Sirius casts. His clothes crumble to dust around him, leaving him standing naked on the moon’s surface. “Fuck!” he mouths in lieu of trying to cast a Bubble-Head Charm, then rushes back into the airlock, leaving bare footprints behind in the lunar soil.

“Alright, that settles it,” I say. “No casting spells. Period. Not unless you’re going to absolutely die if you don’t try and a wild surge couldn’t possibly make things any worse.”

“We should just do what we’re here to do and then go back to Earth,” Cassie says.

I nod. “I’m going to see about heading into the Umbra.”

“I’m going with you,” Luna says.

“You’re not leaving me behind,” Gellert adds.

“I’m not sure you can even follow me where I’m going,” I say. “I’m not sure I can even get there, myself.”

“Have faith in yourself,” Luna says.

I grin at her, then put a hand on her shoulder. “Good advice.” I look to the others. “Alright, then, I’ll leave the rest of you to check out the ship or just enjoy the view. Just be careful, and no spells.”

“We shall hopefully have it ready to go by the time you return,” Tom says. “There is very little that we can do if we cannot use magic on it, but I’ll take a close look over it again regardless.”

I meet his eyes. I can tell he wants to wish me ‘good luck’ but is holding his tongue on that. I take Luna’s and Gellert’s hands in my own, then tell Tom, “May your magic never falter.”

Tom pauses, hesitates, then replies after several moments, “And may yours find its favor.”

I wasn’t sure that he’d remember the proper response to the formal Elkandu parting. I barely remembered it, myself. But it has never seemed more appropriate than right now. With one final smile back toward the others, I step sideways into the Umbra.

The world grows dim and my ship and the friends I’ve left there fade out of view, but the light of Gellert’s overpowered spell follows us to guide our steps.

“Let’s not become separated,” I say quietly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gellert says.

We stride through a realm of perpetual twilight, the landscape growing stranger and more alien as we go. Silhouettes of trees loom on the horizon as we pass through a garden of vibrant flowers in impossible colors. Ultraviolet lilies bloom beside infrared roses. A clump of thyme glows the color of life, and one dahlia amidst it shines the color of death. Waterfalls cascade from the rocks into misty chasms whose bottoms I cannot see, and we have to carefully find a way around one. Moths that let off shimmering light of their own flutter among the gardens. It’s the most beautiful place I have ever seen.

We come at last to a silver city, gleaming against the hazy purple skies. Streets wind amidst towers like shafts of light, but the people who live there aren’t human, nor any race I immediately recognize, but bat-like humanoids with pale bluish or lavender skin. Some of them stop to watch us for a moment, but they stay out of our way and let us pass.

My companions are silent at my sides. Even Gellert is at a loss for a quip here. They’re so quiet that I find myself paranoidly glancing to each side now and then to make sure they’re still with me.

I head for the largest building, up a long stretch of wide stairs to a silver palace, figuring that’s the most likely option for finding who we’re looking for. The gates are wide open, and allow us to pass into a lush courtyard with a spouting fountain in the center.

At the far end of the courtyard stands a woman, as if waiting for us. A flowing, voluminous gown surrounds her like a gossamer moonbeam. I feel as though I ought to kneel on the walkway before her, out of proper respect for the moon goddess. I lower myself to my knees, and my companions follow my lead and do likewise.

“Welcome to my abode, children,” the goddess speaks in words like bells. “I am the moon and the stars. I am the dawn and the dusk. I am Luna, Lunitari, Selene, Selune, Azura, Varda, Arianrhod, other names and nameless, well-loved and unknown. Rise, Stormseeker. Rise, Moonseeker. Rise, Phoenix.”

We climb to our feet again, although I still find it difficult to look directly upon her radiance.

“What would you prefer us to call you, Your Ladyship?” I ask.

“You may call me Azura. I believe that would be most appropriate, today.”

“Very well,” I say. “Azura. It is most gracious of you to receive us.”

“It has been quite some time that I received visitors who arrived in Moonshadow in quite the manner you came,” Azura says. “I must admit that I am intrigued. What brings you to me?”

“We have a situation, and we need your advice, and your assistance if possible,” I say. “We come from the future to avert disaster, in the form of a werewolf by the name of Fenrir Greyback, also known by his Black Spiral name of Jez’kai, who managed to retroactively grant himself immortality and some form of godlike powers.”

Azura frowns, then nods. “I see. Yes. Rarely does anything good come of those who would tap into such sources of power in order to attain apotheosis.”

“I’m not sure I’d _want_ to know just how he did it,” I say. “I heard something about sacrificing an entire planet.”

“He performed unspeakable acts,” Luna says quietly.

Azura stares off at nothing. “The skeins of the future have become quite tangled. And you have brought many threads of them back with you, I see.”

I nod. “They offered up their souls in order to fix this, but I couldn’t really fix it.”

“We had an idea,” Gellert says. “About how we could erase him from time.”

Azura shakes her head. “It will not be that simple.”

“I didn’t think so,” I say. “That’s why we came to you. We hoped we could minimize the damage to the timeline.”

“It is good that you came to me,” Azura says. “We can fix this. You will be my hands in the world. But this will not come without a price.”

“What price would you ask?” I wonder.

“Of you, in your case, it would be less a request than an opportunity,” Azura says. “There are other worlds that need help. I will send you to them. You may do as you choose once you are there, but I believe you will wind up helping regardless.”

I chuckle. “I believe that would be an accurate assessment. I’ll agree to that, and gladly so.”

“He does have a bit of a saving-people-thing,” Gellert says with a smirk.

“As for those souls you have borne back with you through space and time…” Azura goes on. “Some will need to sacrifice their existence in order to prevent the circumstances which brought about this cataclysm. Others must remain, as the timeline requires their threads to build around. Your great-grandmother, Hawthorne, was one of those who offered herself up. But erasing her would also mean erasing all of her descendants, including you. I do not believe she realized this.”

“I don’t think she was very good at thinking things through,” I comment. “Do I want to know who this would entail?”

“It would serve no purpose,” Azura says. “Most of them, you have never met, or did so only briefly.”

“I would prefer to honor their sacrifice regardless, even if no one else will ever remember them or know they might have once existed,” I say.

“Very well, if that is your wish,” Azura says. She lets off a list of names, most of which I don’t recognize, or have vaguely remembered in passing from the future history Sardill showed me. But the ones I knew… Fantasia is among them. As is Asher Falk.

“Falk will be gone?” I say in a small voice.

“He considered his existence a small price to pay to stop…” Azura pauses. “Ahem. A description that it would be undignified to repeat.”

“I can imagine,” I say with a smirk. “He was quite the master at profanity.”

“These people all shaped, in some way, intentionally or inadvertently, the events that led up to this disaster,” Azura says. “Without a specific combination of events, it would never have happened. It could never have happened.”

“What do I have to do?” I ask.

“Gather your companions,” Azura says. “Return to the Earth. Perform your ritual at the appointed time and the appointed place. Call upon me, summon me into the circle, and I will guide your weaves.”

“At dawn on the Spring Equinox in the City of the Moon,” I say quietly.

Azura gives a small smile and inclines her head.

I bow to her. “Thank you, Lady Azura.”

I start to turn to go, but Luna approaches Azura, looking dreamily up toward her. “You have given me a new name.”

“Moonseeker,” Azura repeats. “You are not merely a Seeker. You have come a long way.”

“May I ask you a question, my lady?” Luna says.

“Of course you may,” Azura says.

“Will I find what I seek?” Luna asks.

“Always,” Azura says. “Though sometimes you will need to be patient. Some roads are very long ones.”

“Will mine be as long as the Stormseeker’s?” Luna asks.

“There are no roads as long as the Stormseeker’s,” Azura replies.

“Thank you,” Luna says.

With that, the three of us leave the silver palace of the moon and return the way we came, through Moonshadow, through the land of strange colors, carefully tracing our path back to where we began.

When we return to the material world, while the others are off playing and enjoying the moon, Tom, Jacob, Remus, and Sirius are next to the ship. The latter appears none the worse for wear, after his brief nude stint.

Tom looks over to me when we approach. “Lexen. Good. You’re back. We’ve had a problem. We haven’t told the others yet, but _Thornblade_ has stopped working. We can’t even open the doors anymore.”

“That’s… a problem,” I say.


	22. Make Your Own Destiny

I examine the ship, wondering why it suddenly stopped working, although doubting that I might be able to find anything that the others missed. Or could I?

Several years ago, or several decades from now, a Cockroach taught me a little Gift that I’d entirely forgotten about until now. Maybe my recent trip through the Umbra jogged my memory. I don’t know.

“Was your trip successful?” Remus asks.

I nod. “We did indeed meet with the goddess of the moon, and she agreed to help us.”

“I hope she did not ask too much of you,” Remus says.

I shake my head. “Nothing that I wasn’t more than willing to do. Alright, I’m going to try something. I’m not sure I want to repeat this trip, as pleasant as it was, so this had better work.”

“I do hope it works,” Tom says. “The mana weaves are holding up but they’re fraying at the edges.”

I take a deep breath and reach out mentally into the ship, trying to contact whatever spirit or spirits might dwell inside of it. Here on the moon, far from the Earth, far from Muggles, far from humans, the spirit world is but the slightest touch away.

There is a spirit in this ship. It is very much awake, and very much angry. I can sense it in my spirit sight as a bee or wasp whose hive has been disturbed, buzzing and hopping about, ready to sting whoever was responsible for this. No, not a bee. A ladybug. Although it’s translucent silver, I can make out its spots. It senses me, and turns its ire toward me.

“ _You! Were you responsible for this outrage?_ ”

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“ _People have been…_ _CHANGING ME_!” it roars.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “They were trying to repair you. They did the best they could, but they couldn’t really understand you.”

The spirit quiets down and calms a little. “They were trying to help, but didn’t know how? Fools… What happened to my friends? Where are the El’dari?”

“They’re… probably dead,” I say. “I’m sorry. They’ve been gone for a very long time.”

“Dead?” the spirit whispers. “How? They weren’t near me when they… died. I waited and waited for them to come back, but they never came back so I slumbered. How long did I slumber?”

“I’m not sure,” I say. “Ten thousand years or more. You were in bad shape when we found you.”

The spirit lets out a long, mournful wail. “Then let me remember their names and wish them well in their next lives. Brishith Shankanas, Lira Halavas, Sebraena Lenavas, and Alis Merimar.”

I lower my head. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

After several long moments, the spirit returns its attention to me, much calmer now. “I wish I’d known. I thought these fools were trying to steal me from my rightful masters, but I was confused that two of them seemed to bear the old blood. Explain to me what has happened and who they are.”

“We found an old device, your ‘key’,” I say. “They were the only ones who could activate it, and we used it to track you down and dig you up. You were buried in a jungle somewhere. Most of your systems weren’t even functional. We tried to repair you, but we knew almost nothing about you, so we had to learn first. I was the only one who could understand the old language, so I had to translate for them.”

“And you didn’t think to contact me sooner?” the spirit asks. “I woke from my rest to find these people clumsily scrabbling around inside me, and I did not make it easy on them.”

I sigh. “I wish I had. It’s a long story. I was unfortunately busy with other things and did not have much chance to look at you, and with other things occupying my mind, it entirely slipped my mind that I could contact machine spirits like this. I’m honestly not used to doing it or being able to do it, but maybe Cockroach taught me this Gift for this very reason, although I have no idea how she could have possibly known. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, though. My friends are going to be very cross with me once they realize I could have spared them years of work.”

The spirit titters in amusement. “They still had to learn, didn’t they? Even if I’d been helping instead of hindering them, their task would not have been an easy one. But, some of these changes weren’t merely attempts to repair me. Explain.”

“They were trying to… improve you,” I say. “They wanted to be able to carry more people, more comfortably, so they made the space within you bigger with magic. They also needed to be able to hide you from prying eyes below, so they put in a cloaking enchantment.”

The spirit grouses. “They made a right mess of things. None of this was supposed to be here.”

“Will we need to remove it?” I ask. “It might be cramped getting everyone back to Earth without the enhancements, but we could manage.”

“I don’t know,” the spirit says. “I’ve never seen magic quite like this before. Maybe if it were better integrated, it could stay. Were you lot planning to just use me for this one trip and then abandon me again, or let me fly around the stars like I was always meant to?”

I grin broadly. “Jacob did express the desire to go see the stars, and I’m sure Newt might like to see what sort of creatures live on other worlds as well. Some of us will be moving on. We have a vital task to take care of, and the goddess of the moon has given me a request that will take me away from here. But to those who will be remaining here, I’m certain they would be more than happy to fly with you, if you would allow it.”

The spirit brightens immediately. “New friends? They won’t replace my old friends, but if they will give me proper respect and let me fly, then they are welcome.”

“Can you manifest yourself to them?” I ask.

“Yes,” the spirit replies. “I will have to, if I am to show them how to fix this mess they made.”

The spirit emerges into the material world, and hovers in front of the airlock.

“What is this?” Tom wonders. “A spirit?”

“This is the spirit of the ship,” I say.

“A pleasure to meet you, miss spirit,” Jacob says. “Or mister? What should we call you?”

The spirit titters. “My name is Lar’naith, but you may call me Lara. Miss Lara, if you would prefer.”

“Well then, Miss Lara, I am Jacob Kawalski. I’m honored.”

The spirit turns to me and practically squees, “I like this one. He’s polite.” She looks back to the others. “Now, you four, you were the ones who were trying to repair and modify me, weren’t you? Come aboard now. You will fix this mess. I will help you.”

The airlock whooses open on its own, much more smoothly than it had done before, and Jacob, Tom, Remus, and Sirius step inside.

I head back over to the others. “We should be able to go soon, but no rush. Whenever you all are ready.”

“It’s been a wonderful trip,” Hermione says. “I’ve taken some samples of moon dust and rocks to analyze properly when we get back to Earth.”

“Of course you did,” I say with a grin, then go over to Newt. “Hey, Newt? Have you ever met a machine spirit?”

“I have not,” Newt says, smiling. “The ship has a spirit in it, I presume?”

“Indeed,” I say. “I managed to contact her and get her to manifest. Her name is Lar’naith, and I’m sure she’d be delighted to make your acquaintance, if you’re respectful.”

Newt can hardly get to the airlock fast enough.

Before heading back to the ship, I take one more look over the lunar landscape. If it weren’t for the wild magic zone, and the lack of breathable atmosphere, this would be a wonderful place to set up a headquarters. And the air could be easily dealt with just with sufficient spells or a contained habitat. There would be precisely zero chance of being discovered up here until Earth’s space programs advanced far enough. Maybe in some other loop, I might look into ways to stabilize part of a wild magic zone, like the Kalkandu had done in Antarctica. But that’s a project for another time. Trailing after Newt, I return to the ship, a spring in my step that has nothing to do with the lunar gravity.

* * *

One last year at Ilvermorny sees me much more relaxed, like a burden had been lifted from my shoulders. So we’re only going to see fourth year, plus part of fifth, but you know what? It’s enough. By the time the ritual comes around, Hermione and Luna will be something around seventeen or eighteen and sixteen or seventeen, respectively. I didn’t bother to count it out to the day, although I’m sure Hermione has. Either way, it’s old enough and with enough magical training under their belts that I don’t need to feel bad about dragging them into this any longer. A strange enough feeling, considering all the things I got up to in my first life with children, back when I was really the same age as them.

With all its systems properly repaired, including the hyperdrive, Lara is happy to unlock her databases and tell her new crew everything she knows about the galaxy. Millennia out of date information, but at least it’s a good indication of where the habitable planets of this universe are. Surely the rest of the galaxy won’t be experiencing a Great Depression, or a second World War. My new friends might just be better off out there somewhere. I don’t need to feel bad about dragging _them_ into this, either.

On winter holiday at the end of 1932, my bondmates and I travel to Selenis. Or more accurately, we have a spaceship set us down in the middle of nowhere in Maine and walk there, because driving is passe and Lara wanted to fly.

It’s midday in the normal world when we start walking, and midnight in Selenis when we arrive, a crescent moon hanging in the air at an improbable angle, almost upside down. After a bit of searching and asking some passersby, we locate Changer-of-Minds again. Luna, Gellert, and I go in to see her while the others split up to check out the werewolf city.

“So you have come,” the elder werewolf woman says to us. “I must tell you, I will not allow you to harm Freya.”

“We’re not planning on harming her,” I say. “We –”

“Your mad plan is ill-conceived,” Changer says. “The potential harm to the universe is not worth it. Please go.”

“We went to the moon,” Luna interjects.

Changer looks over at her in surprise. “You actually did it?”

“We totally did it,” Gellert says.

I nod. “We visited Moonshadow and spoke to the goddess there, and she agreed to help us.”

Changer bows her head. “My apologies. I made an assumption and did not allow you to speak.”

“Have the years been so trying to you, Changer-of-Minds?” Luna asks.

“It has been a rough time, yes,” Changer says. “What is your name, young one?”

“My name is Luna Lovegood, but the goddess herself gave me the name Moonseeker,” Luna says with a bright smile.

“Moonseeker,” Changer repeats. “It is a fine name.”

“What has happened here recently?” Luna asks.

“Black Spiral Dancers,” Changer says. “There have been attacks, but so far they have not managed to penetrate Selenis. We’ve given refuge here to many survivors who lost their homes in the fighting.”

“Fucking obnoxious Spirals,” Gellert mutters. “Will it be too much to hope that they don’t interfere with this?”

“So, Freya is here?” I ask.

“She is,” Changer says with a nod. “She is under our protection, and due to give birth in mid-March.”

I nod. “I’m planning to perform the ritual on the Spring Equinox. That’s perfect.”

“I must request that you speak with her first and get her to agree to this ritual,” Changer says. “This is her child that you are dealing with, after all.”

Gellert snorts softly, but says nothing.

“What have you told her?” I ask.

“Nothing,” Changer says. “What good would it do to tell her that her child might possibly be a villain in some future that has yet to occur and may never occur?”

“It won’t occur if I have anything to say about it,” I say. “Where is she?”

Changer directs us to a room down the hallway. I knock on the door, and when invited in, open the door. A pregnant woman puts down a book as we enter, and sets it aside on a table next to her armchair. Dark blond hair falls in ripples down her shoulders, across a coarse green dress. She looks over to me and Gellert a little uneasily, but Luna goes right up to her with a smile on her face.

“Hello!” Luna says. “Are you Freya?” The woman nods, and Luna continues, “I’m Moonseeker. These are Stormseeker and Phoenix, my packmates and my best friends in the universe.”

Freya gives us a bit of a tense smile, relaxing a bit. “Hello. Nice to meet you. Is this just a courtesy call, or did you need something?”

“Luna, did you want to explain it to her?” I ask.

“You have to admit she’d be able to do it without rambling quite as much as you usually do,” Gellert says.

“You can’t accuse me of rambling when you’re constantly going off on unrelated tangents,” I retort.

“We’re from the future,” Luna tells her.

“The future,” Freya says flatly.

Luna nods. “The future is a strange and wonderful place, but so is the past. But we had a problem. A Black Spiral Dancer kept attacking people and hurting our friends. And when we killed him, he kept coming back. Over and over.”

“Right, I don’t know anything about this future business, but that doesn’t sound good,” Freya says.

“Definitely not,” Gellert agrees. “A right bastard, that one was. It’s very rude not to properly stay dead when you’re killed.” His eyes twinkle in a practically Albus-like manner.

“So we came back in time to before he was born,” Luna says.

Freya frowns, realization dawning on her, and she puts a hand protectively over her belly. “You don’t mean…”

“We don’t mean to hurt your child, Freya,” I say.

“Well, see, the future bad guy was basically infected by an even futurer badder guy,” Gellert says. “He managed to infect himself back in time.”

Luna says quietly. “Sometimes I think I’m the only sane one here. We’re not going to hurt your child. We want to cure him.”

“Cure him?” Freya asks. “Wait, it’s a him?”

“Spoiler warning,” Gellert puts in.

“He’s been Wyrm-corrupted from the future, basically,” I say. “We have the aid and blessing of Luna in this matter.”

“Also the moon goddess,” Gellert adds.

“I am incredibly confused,” Freya says.

“Yeah, we tend to do that,” Gellert says.

“We want to give your son the chance to choose a different life for himself, and not the one the Wyrm will force him upon,” Luna says. “Maybe he’ll become a great cheesemaker instead.”

I put my face in my palm. “The boy’s aspirations toward being a dairy farmer or otherwise notwithstanding, Changer-of-Minds told us to speak with you about this. I’m surprised that she passed along nothing that we told her, though.”

“I knew something was wrong, even if she didn’t say,” Freya says. “Even if I had no idea there was _time travel_ involved. The Black Spiral Dancers were after me. I assumed they were after my child for some reason. At least now I know why.”

After we head out and are alone again, I ask Luna, “How do you know Fenrir Greyback will still exist in some form once we’re done? Especially given how many people are willing to sacrifice themselves to stop him.”

Luna smiles at me. “Have faith.”

“Alright,” I say.

* * *

Anticipation renders it nearly impossible for me to concentrate on my studies during January and February. I keep thinking that I need to put one more word, one more rune, one more element into place in my ritual design. I completely forget such trivial things as homework, resulting in Professor O’Rourke calling me into her office toward the beginning of March.

“Mr. Potter,” O’Rourke says. “I’ve been disappointed in your performance lately. Has something been troubling you that you are getting so distracted from your studies?”

I frown. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Would you be willing to tell me?”

“I’m going on a long trip soon and I don’t know if I’ll be back,” I say. “I guess homework didn’t seem very important when I’ll be gone soon.”

“I see,” O’Rourke says. “Where are you going? Back to England?”

“I’m from Wales, not England,” I say. “And I miss it greatly and hope I’ll be able to go back there eventually.”

I don’t want to explain this all again. Not even one last time. Even if I were inclined to tell her, I’m getting a little weary of this. I’m ready for this to be over.

“Well, until you go, you still have classwork to take care of, so I do hope you pay better attention in class,” O’Rourke says.

“I’ll try,” I assure her.

I return to my common room and meet up with Abraxas and Luna.

“Let me guess, she thinks you are slacking off,” Abraxas says.

“We should go,” I say quietly.

“Leave school?” Abraxas says. “Now?”

“We don’t have much time left,” I say. “We should just get out of here and make our preparations. Say our goodbyes and be gone before anyone can stop us.”

Luna doesn’t respond, but puts her hand on my shoulder. “It’s too bad we couldn’t have stayed to finish school. I’ll kind of miss Ilvermorny. But you’re right. It’s time to move on, if not now, then very soon. Very soon.”

I take to my journal and through it, spread the word to my friends in Horned Serpent House, and to those on the _Thornblade_. We make our final preparations and ensure that everything we want to take with us is packed away into our bags of holding.

It would have been less disruptive to have simply not come back to Ilvermorny at all, knowing we would be unable to complete this school year, but I think some of us wanted to delay the inevitable just a little bit longer. Maybe I’m just projecting my own feelings onto others there. I’ve enjoyed my time here. It has been wonderful, and it has been quiet and peaceful, like a much-needed vacation, even if that entire vacation was spent working.

The next day at Mana Weaving class, Gellert announces to the class, “I’m gonna be taking some of you on a little bit of a ‘field trip’. Sorry I can’t take all of you, as I’m sure you’d love it. In the meantime, I’ll leave you in Credence’s capable hands.”

Credence looked to him in shock. “Me?”

“Dear boy, you’re already better at this than I am,” Gellert says. “There’s nothing more that I can teach you. All I’ve been doing for the past year has been practicing along with the rest of you. I’m not going to pretend that I have any knowledge you don’t. Because I don’t.”

Except for that wee little bit about soulfire, and like hell are any of us going to admit that spell even _exists_ , never mind that we know how to do it.

“Anyway, we found an ancient Atlantean spaceship and we’re using it to fly to another world,” Gellert says, continuing as if that’s the most normal thing in the world. “Let’s all go to the courtyard and you can take a look for yourself and see us off.”

This was possibly the least subtle conceivable way of handling this. The entire class – which mostly consists of myself and my friends and about half a dozen others – files out of the room after Gellert. I have to wonder if he even bothered to mention to the rest of the staff that he was planning on doing this, to which I highly doubt it.

Sure enough, as we enter the largest courtyard, the _Thornblade_ drops its cloaking spells and shimmers into view. The other students gape and gasp in awe, and I just have to laugh softly at the ridiculousness of this. Here I was trying to be coy and subtle about it, and Gellert just gives no fucks.

Sirius leans out of the hatch and waves over to us. “All aboard who’s coming aboard!”

Cassie and Hermione hug two of our classmates. Gellert hugs Credence. And Luna loops her arm around my elbow.

“Let’s go, Stormseeker,” Luna says. “It’s time to fly.”

With that, we’re gone before anyone at school can really figure out what happened or tell us no. As we take off and reactivate the cloaking spell, I just have to imagine Professor O’Rourke’s baffled expression when she realizes we’ve left.

* * *

Selenis is under attack.

It turns out that it was for the best that we left Ilvermorny when we did, and my anxiety was not unwarranted. If it weren’t for us shoring up the defenses with everything we’ve got, the City of the Moon might have fallen by now. Wards and weaves and runes and just plain going out and meeting the invaders head-on with blades and fire. We throw everything we have at them.

“They must know we’re going to try something on the Equinox,” I say. “They’re trying to stop us.”

“Most of them are too damned mad to realize what they’re even doing half the time,” Doubts-the-Moon says. “Whoever is herding them around probably has a clue, though, whether that’s another Spiral or a bane spirit or a possessed being or something else entirely. It doesn’t matter. They’re still dangerous.”

“Casualties?” I ask.

“More than you want to know,” Doubts-the-Moon says with a scowl. “We can’t abandon the caern, though. We’ll fight to defend it tooth and claw. No way are we allowing Luna’s shrine to fall to the Wyrm.”

Those last few days, I hardly feel like I get a chance to sleep at all. We’ve been steadily losing ground, pushed back further and further into the caern. The kinfolk and children have been evacuated, except for Freya, and she’s being kept at the heart of the caern. We can’t defend the noncombatants any longer, and the Black Spiral Dancers aren’t after them regardless.

I hadn’t seen it before, but at the center of the caern is a shrine, a statue depicting a woman in a flowing robe holding aloft a crescent moon and a many-pointed star. I immediately recognize her visage as the goddess I met with in the realm on the moon. This is it. This is where I’m going to need to perform this ritual.

“How the fuck many of them _are_ there?” Gellert says incredulously. “Did they bring every single Black Spiral Dancer on the fucking _planet_ to attack this caern?”

“It honestly would not surprise me,” Remus says.

“The future demon god _exists_ in this time,” I say. “Just because he hasn’t been born yet doesn’t mean his soul isn’t active in this time frame. He must already be influencing them from the fucking womb somehow. Calling them all to him like a siren song across the Umbra.”

“Shit,” Doubts-the-Moon utters, for once not even doubting my conjecture.

“Let’s just start setting up the ritual,” Tom says. “We may not have much time, when the point comes where we need to activate it.”

“This is all because of me?” Freya says quietly, backing up against the statue.

“No, dear lady,” Abraxas says. “You are blameless in this.”

“This is all because of my son,” Freya corrects herself, putting a hand on her enormous belly. “I think… I think he wants to come out now.” She groans.

I step away quickly. “Right, well, I’m sure someone in the immediate vicinity knows something about childbirth. I’m going to go check the wards.”

The perimeter is holding for the moment, but who knows how long that will last? This caern was never meant to be a fortress. Its primary defense was that it was difficult to reach from the outside world, and once that was breached, there’s little to stop the Black Spiral Dancers from getting in. And it’s not just mad werewolves that are attacking us, either. I spot mutated humanoids amongst them as well, fomori maybe? A smattering of dark wizards as well, and various bane spirits, including Dementors. Once the Dementors showed up, every one of us who could cast a Patronus did so and set them out to keeping watch. We’re not fucking around with _those_ things.

No one gets any sleep tonight. We’re hunkered down in the heart of the caern, in the garden around the shrine and the surrounding area and buildings. Rispy has not paused in his patrols. We’ve thrown up makeshift barricades and tried to conserve our energy. We’ll need it for the ritual.

Freya sits at the base of the statue, cradling a newborn baby who has been screaming bloody murder ever since he came out of her, hardly pausing for breath. I’m not sure if that really differentiates him from a normal baby, though.

We’ve gone all out and drawn no less than nine concentric circles of runes on the ground in front of the shrine. Silver bowls of clean water surround the area, and daffodils and Queen Anne’s lace scatter the ground. Cassie had recommended we use white anemones instead of daffodils, but we were unable to get our hands on any on short notice due to the siege, and they needed to be fresh. Still, It’ll have to do.

“The Equinox is upon us,” Tom says, letting out a heavy breath. “Twilight is falling.”

“Form up and take your positions,” I say. “Does everyone remember their part of the chant?”

There’s nods around the circle, as well as a few uncertain looks.

“It’s a little flexible,” I assure them. “Just put your heart into it and… have faith. The gods will be with us this day.”

The sky grows dim and the sun slips down to the horizon in the east, bathing the world in purple and pink and red. Dusk in Selenis, dawn in the outside world. It’s time.

“I call upon the lady of the dawn and dusk!” I cry out. “I call upon the goddess of the moon and stars! I name you, Luna, Lunitari, Selene, Selune, Azura, Varda, and Arianrhod. In this fateful hour, I beseech your aid!”

Radiant shafts of blue light gleam upon the bowls of water. The air grows quiet, and the sounds of battle in the distance fade away. Without this, all our spells and runes and weaves would be for naught, and I know it.

Clad in moonlight, the goddess appears before us as though out of a mirage. “I am here. I am with you.”

“My lady,” Doubts-the-Moon says, kneeling. The other Garou are too busy watching the perimeter and making sure our ritual isn’t interrupted to allow themselves to be distracted.

“Rise, Trusts-the-Moon,” Azura says. “Take the child into the circle.”

He stands, wide-eyed and shaking a little, and goes over to Freya, who surrenders her son without complaint. The newborn could not possibly protest any further about being laid in the middle of the ritual circle, but he seems to manage to scream all the louder nonetheless.

With that, with everything in place, we begin our chant, the nine of us. We lift our hands, and channel our mana, and begin to weave. Time and Soul, Life and Death, Fire and Light. Strand after strand, tightly woven into a tapestry, as we speak arcane words in a rhythm with our movements. We spent years practicing this, but when the final moment comes upon us, it’s all we can do to stay calm and make sure our magic does not falter. Some of us had less experience than others, but they provide raw mana and the rest of us can make up the slack in weaving that mana.

We finish the tapestry and cast it upon the child as one. And the world vanishes in a wash of blue light.

We find ourselves back in Moonshadow, standing before Azura’s palace, those bonded to me, those who had been fighting, and the goddess herself. The child remains lying in the circle, but he has gone quiet, and blinks up at us as though in confusion.

“Is it done?” I ask hesitantly after a long moment.

“It is done,” Azura says.

“What happened to Selenis?” I ask.

“It is no more,” Azura says. “I sacrificed my shrine there in order to manifest the energy required and to prevent it from falling into the hands of the Black Spiral Dancers.” She holds up a hand to the Garou to forestall their fallen distraught faces. “Do not be distressed. This was my intent. You all fought valiantly and are to be commended. You’ve earned a greater victory against the Wyrm than you realize. Selenis is no more… but neither is the army that was sent against it, nor the cause of it.”

She goes over to take up the quiet babe and hand him over to his mother.

“He’s cured?” Freya breathes.

“I sense no taint in him,” Changer-of-Minds says.

“He is free,” Azura says. “His fate is his own, to rise or fall as he chooses.” She turns to the others. “I will return you safely to another caern. Honor the sacrifices that were made to make it this far, but you may live safe in the knowledge that their blood has bought your lives and your freedom. It has been a longer journey than you know. Go in peace, children of the moon.”

With a wave of her hand, she opens a bridge of light and ushers them across and out of the realm, but she gestures at me and my friends to remain. Once the Garou, kin woman, and baby are gone, she turns her attention to us again.

“As for you,” she says. “You have been the hope of one world.”

I stare at her, then utter, “Nine hundred and ninety-nine to go?”

She smiles serenely and doesn’t answer.

“Dear goddess, if it takes me this long to ‘save’ the others, it will take me eternity to get through that,” I say with a groan.

Gellert cracks up.

“Be assured, Stormseeker, that this did not only count as one, and that number was not meant literally,” Azura says with the tiniest hint of amusement. “However, as per your agreement on our bargain, there are other worlds that yet await.”

“What did you agree to, Lexen?” Tom asks in a strained voice.

“Nothing that should hinder the rest of you,” I say. “We wanted to visit other worlds, didn’t we? She offered to provide transportation. And suggested that I would likely wind up saving people there of my own free will.”

“This is dreadfully true,” Tom says. “I suppose I will not complain of your ‘saving-people-thing’ in that case, if a _goddess_ took that into account as to why she didn’t think she had to ask you directly to do it.”

“So, Lady Azura, where will we be going first?” I ask.

“To the world where I am actually called Azura. As was my intention when you arrived and I asked you to call me by that name. You were there once, in another life, and I promised them that one day you would return to set things right.”

“Does it really count as a prophecy if it’s really just telling people what you intend to make sure happens in the future?” Gellert wonders.

Leave it to Gellert to be flippant toward a deity. Azura graciously ignores him.

“Is everyone ready?” I ask.

There are murmurs of agreement among my friends.

“Then, with your leave, Lady Azura, we will go,” I say. “To the next great adventure.”

“Do you really have to use that terminology?” Gellert says with a groan.

It’s time to say goodbye to this world, but I have no regrets about it. It has been a wild ride, through hardship and joy, through love and strife, through fire and storm. But I have friends for the journey, and the multiverse awaits. And for the first time in memory, I feel that I can finally be free of the doom that hung over my head for so long.

Like the turning dawn and dusk, there are no endings and no true goodbyes. The world changes and moves on, and we move along with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, this marks the end of the _Forgotten Destiny_ arc. Thank you for coming along this long journey with me, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
> 
> The next installment, beginning an entirely new arc, is titled _Scrolls of Prophecy_ and will be posted at some point in the future after I actually write it.


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